


Eternal War Book III: Phantoms in the Ether

by Anchanted_One



Series: Eternal War [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Don't repost without permission, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gore, Healing, M/M, Other, Politics, Recovery, Romance, Violence, War, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 54,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25122301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanted_One/pseuds/Anchanted_One
Summary: SCORPIO begins to move. Vaylin walks a new path. Akahte leads the resistance on Zakuul while Arro conducts the war on the galactic scale. The Alliance Leadership must also look out for signs of the elusive House of Masks, and are on constant alert for the far-reaching but initially subtle effects of their plots.
Relationships: Aric Jorgan/Theron Shan, Ava Jaxo/Male Republic Trooper, Female Sith Inquisitor/Vaylin, Kira Carsen/Torian Cadera, Lana Beniko/Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython, Male Smuggler/Cedonia Teraan, Risha Drayen/Merritt Rineld, Risha Drayen/Vette
Series: Eternal War [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350574
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. Rumblings on Ossus

* * *

**Ossus**

It was evening on the newly resettled patch of land on Ossus. Once home to a great Jedi library, the world had been abandoned since a cataclysm brought about by Sith belligerents had rendered the world inhospitable.

And so it would have remained if not for necessity; following the Republic’s bitter defeat at the hands of the Eternal Empire, the two surviving Masters of the Council—Masters Dayl Zoran and Gnost Dural—had sought to relocate to a secret world and rebuild the Jedi Order there. And here they had stayed for four years. In much needed peace and quiet following the years of senseless violence, they had readily accepted the trade-off of cutting off all communications from the rest of the galaxy. Here, they had settled, rebuilt, rested, and tried to start anew their war-torn lives. Against all odds, they had grown crops in this desolate soil and begun to thrive, and their future looked sunny for the first time in decades.

All those hopes had come crashing down about a week ago, when an urgent alert via messenger had reached them. The excitable droid in the tiny scout ship had warned the people that they had been discovered by the Eternal Empire, which had just launched a massive offensive that dwarfed anything during the last war.

The warning had come just in time, for less than an hour later, seven hundred ships appeared in orbit and commenced a determined bombardment, but the planetary shields—the first thing that the colonists had built—were sufficient to the task. The ground batteries—which had only recently been added—had initially suffered from calibration and power generation issues, but after a few hours had been far more successful in countering the assailing forces. The situation had been greatly helped when a fleet containing both Republic and Sith Imperial light ships and carriers had arrived to break the siege. After that, the Eternal Fleet had quickly turned and fled.

In the days since, the colonists had gotten from relief at having weathered that storm to anxiety over being discovered and brought into another war yet again. This afternoon, several shuttles and their escorts had arrived in-system, and their arrival caused rumors and speculation to spread, and now a crowd had gathered around the community hall where the newcomers were met by the colonist leaders and the two Jedi Masters.

Would they leave again? Find another place to hide? Or was there no escaping the war to come? Debates rang out among the colonists, but they were of the peaceful sort; and the few Jedi among them were easily able to reassure their fellows that they would take care of them. But though fears were dispelled, the tension remained as everyone waited.

* * *

“So to sum it up, Arcann is dead,” the tall dark-skinned Jedi woman said, her soft voice openly hostile and greatly sarcastic. “But before dying, he built the fleet to number in the hundreds of thousands; and a psycho droid now commands said big-ass fleet. All because you idiots were careless.”

Theron was impressed at how Lana and Arro kept their faces impassive; he himself felt quite pissed. 

“Careless?” he asked, keeping the anger from his voice but not his own sarcasm. “We were fighting a war with a very tiny force, outnumbered ten million to one! Maybe if you and your people were with us—and not hiding in this graveyard of a planet—you could have helped us maybe keep an extra eye on her? Or better yet; taken down Arcann, whose ridiculous tribute demands were sucking the galaxy dry?”

“Do not blame us for a war that  _ you _ started going badly,” the woman countered, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“We did nothing of the sort!” Theron protested. “Didn’t you hear what I said about ridiculous tribute demands? People were starving to death!”

“And they still are!” Lana put in, her voice hoarse, and deeper than normal. The large Jedi glared at her so hard the air around her eyes seemed to spark and burn. The Sith—her eyes red and streaming—was a little distracted to acknowledge the open hostility. She sneezed softly into her handkerchief for maybe the hundredth time since landing, with another whispered “Excuse me.” Hay fever. Poor thing. And here she was surrounded by Jedi too—her former enemies. All considered, she was remarkably poised.

“Exactly,” Theron said pointedly. “Just because you guys went on a picnic doesn’t mean the war stopped.”

“Both the Republic and Empire signed a damned  _ treaty _ . The war had ended.”

“ _ Theoretically, _ and only with  _ Zakuul _ . The Republic and Empire were happy to go back to gnawing at each other’s throats. Besides, remember the Treaty of Coruscant? It was the same thing. Come to think of it, first thing the Order Leadership did then too was run away and hope their problems were gone. Recurring theme, I see.”

Oooo she bristled at that! “What did you say, you smug sonofa—”

“Peace, Tau,” Master Gnost-Dural said beside the tall Knight as she opened her mouth to retort again. Theron was glad for his former comrade’s presence; the man had been the only sympathetic voice on this hidey-hole, but he would have been eager to hear this woman named Tau finish that curse about his mother. Gost-Dural’s colleague—the now Grandmaster Dayl Zoran—had been even less welcoming than the tall Jedi Tau—although his animosity seemed to be reserved for Arro rather than the war, the Alliance, or even the very Sithy Lana Beniko.

“SCORPIO was working towards taking the Throne long before she joined the Alliance,” Arro said. “Arcann was pushing both sides to destroy each other over scraps. The galaxy was already on the brink of war when I was thawed out. Why do you think there was an Alliance in the first place? And not just regular people; Jedi and Sith were working together already from fear of Zakuul!”

“And who speaks for these Jedi?” Grand Master Dayl said. “You? You are no Jedi. You have tried to abandon your brothers and sisters multiple times already!”

“I have tried, it’s true. But I‘m still here, aren’t I? Just like I was there on Tython, Coruscant, Taris, Nar Shaddaa, Peragus IV, Tatooine, Alderaan, Balmorra, Hoth, Contruum, Nubia, Kuat, Luja, Belsavis, Corellia, The Emperor’s Throne Room—twice—Ilum, Rishi, Yavin, Ziost, and countless other places. Whenever my presence was needed anywhere—even if I had serious doubts about it, as I did with Master Braga’s mission to redeem the Emperor—I was there. Even when I was being torn apart inside or my instincts screamed to run away, I stayed. And I’m still here today.” 

“And where are you, Master Zoran?” Jasme cut in unexpectedly. Her usually-friendly eyes held all the kindness of a desert sun. “Exactly where  _ you _ have always been. Sitting on your padded cushions. It’s true, you always considered yourself the planner, the sage; but you wear your role like a Senator and not a Jedi Master! Ever since you were given that rank, you stood aside and ordered  _ others _ to do your legwork for you, then point out their mistakes for them like you were doing them some big favor. On Balmorra it was your Padawan Saya who was on the ground. She died of injuries she sustained fighting Darth Lachris while you sat in Bugtown. On Hoth you deployed a whole team of Jedi to move for you out in the freezing snow while you lounged in the heated command center. The one who did literally all of your field work after you first encountered a Child of the Emperor was Nadia. All you have done in fourteen years is boss others around, yet you have the gall to criticize them for their faults; some of which are imaginary!”

Theron, Lana, Arro, Master Gnost-Dural, and even the Grand Master himself gaped in complete shock at the former archaeologist and archivist of the Jedi Library on Tython. She had always been so gentle and restrained, where did all of this venom come from? 

“You hate Arro,” Jasme forced out through gritted teeth, pointing a trembling finger at the Jedi Master accusingly. “Just admit it, ‘Master Jedi’! From as far back as I can remember, you’ve treated him like garbage. It’s true that your knowledge and power are second to none in the Order, but you are arrogant and petty. How the Jedi have fallen to have you as Grandmaster!”

Theron was mightily impressed! He made a mental note to write up a heroic song in his sister’s honor later. He didn’t praise her enough by half.

“I… I…” the Nautolan stammered, his face purple. “I am a Jedi Master, you cocksure little mockingjay! We do not  _ hate _ ! How  _ dare _ you...” 

“This isn’t why we came here,” Arro interrupted, moving between the two. He seemed to be holding back his laughter. Next to him, Lana only pretended to sneeze this time. “ _ Grand _ Master Dayl,” Arro emphasized the ‘Grand’. “The Galaxy is at war again, and your colony is now exposed—though to be honest, it was never that secret. Lana found you on the first planet she thought to look. Ossus  _ is _ an old Jedi world after all. Not the most subtle choice.” Master Zoran looked at him sourly. “But if you wish to find another world to rebuild on, you have the Alliance’s support. We can help you evacuate, spare you with some ships. And if any Jedi want to return to Odessen with us—”

But Master Zoran had snapped. Perhaps it was the offer for help from someone he despised, perhaps he hated the idea of any of his followers leaving him to follow said despised one, but he gave a strangled yell and raised his shaking fist. Arro was Hurled across the room and hit a stone table with a disconcerting crunch, and fell sprawled on the floor next to it, coughing up blood.

There was a moment of shocked silence before the room exploded in sudden motion.

“Arro!” Lana barked, running to his side, and knelt down beside him. “What have you done?” she whispered at the offending Jedi. “That crash broke some of his ribs!”

The Grandmaster’s outburst had dispensed of all vestiges of civility. Theron had drawn his blasters and had them trained on the small Jedi, and the woman Tau stood facing him with her saber burning—stars, it was almost as big as she was! Gnost-Dural was frantically calling for a medic, and Jasme looked ready to yank out her own throwing knives.

“No less than he deserved,” Zoran said. “‘Helping us flee’, ‘welcoming’ us to join him… the nerve! Take him and  _ go _ ! You are not welcome here, any of you. And when he wakes up, tell him he is cast out from the Order.”

If they were surprised before, they were struck dumb now. What was going on? How had their little talk broken down so badly? None of them spoke as medical droids rushed in with a stretcher, and the security captain uttered a foul oath and drew his own weapon, aiming at Theron.

“You have made a terrible mistake here, you petulant child!” Lana spoke at last, her voice a serpent’s hiss. She accompanied the droids as they gently eased her husband onto the stretcher and bore him away. 

Theron and Jasme followed, the former holstering his blasters as they left. Theron remembered to toss his dirtiest look at Gnost-Dural from the door, noting that the old Kel Dor at least had the grace to cringe. The Jedi were really dead to him now.

* * *

It was another hour before they emerged from the community hall. Arro was still unconscious, but at least the droids had treated his broken ribs. He would be fine now till they got him to the medical bay on Odessen. A little kolto immersion and he would be back on his feet in a few weeks.

As they were boarding the shuttle, Gnost-Dural approached Lana. “I’m so sorry, Lord Beniko,” he said. “Truly, this was a poor way to treat our saviours.”

Lana nodded sourly but didn’t respond. But the Kel Dor wasn’t the only one to approach. A small group of colonists and Jedi had also closed in as well, and she recognized one of them.

“Jaesa, wasn’t it?” Lana asked, offering the woman a strained smile. “Jaesa Willsaam?”

“I’m flattered you remember me, my Lord,” Jaesa curtsied. She was not as Lana remembered; her once youthful face was now lined beyond her years. She had also lost a good deal of weight and now looked skeletally thin and sinewy. Even her hair was sparse and dull compared to the rich and thick mop she’d once sported. Her eyes were dull and lifeless too, but worse was her signature in the Force, which now felt like dying embers of a once bright fire.

Lana felt deeply sorry for the poor woman; exile and anguish had taken their toll on her.

“Master Gnost-Dural told us what happened, and all of us were outraged.” The small crowd around her nodded and murmured. “We’re so sorry. Bless you,” she added when Lana was overcome by another sneezing fit.

“You’re not at fault,” Lana said, sniffing horribly and wiping her nose again. She really wanted to get off this damn planet. Not only for Arro’s treatment, but also because of her damned allergies! “Master Zoran alone is responsible for his childish actions.”

“Lord Beniko—”

“Please, just ‘Lana’ will do.”

“Yes, Lana—we’d all like to come with you,” Jaesa indicated to the small group behind her. “We’ve talked about it. We spent five years trying to heal, but the galaxy is clearly not going to leave us alone.”

“It will, if you choose your next settlement somewhere unaffiliated to Jedi history,” Lana reassured them. “Maybe if your friends try Nelvaan next time. But you are free to come with us. We will have to send additional ships to pick you up though. Wouldn’t be right to deprive the Ossan Colony of their meagre resources.”

“Thank you Lana!” Jaesa gushed, relief bringing back some of her lost energy to her face.

“Master Gnost-Dural,” Lana spoke to the Jedi Master. “Will you be joining us as well.”

He shook his head firmly. “Maybe in a year or two, but right now, there is work I need to do right here on Ossus.”

“I understand,” Lana nodded, and she did. Ossus once held a great Jedi Library, and a Master like Gnost-Dural—whose love for learning was well known—would want to explore what learning remained here since his path had led him here. “In fact, let me know if you need some resources. Archivists, translators, droids, excavators… maybe we can accommodate you. Maybe”

“Your offer is a generous one, Lana,” the ageing Jedi master bowed. “We might take you up on it.”

“Just to be clear though, you can’t have Jasme; she’s ours now. She’s doing important work, and we can’t make do without her.”

“Oh hell yes you do!” Jasme said with a wide grin as Gnost-Dural and those around him chuckled politely.. She strode out from the ship on her long legs and bowed to Lana. “Arro is in the medbay, and Theron is preparing for takeoff. We’ll be ready in two minutes. But never mind that! Can you please repeat what you said about how badly you needed me? I’d like to record it.”

“I’ll repeat it as often as you wish…” Lana sniffed and sneezed almost a dozen times, feeling very dizzy by the end. “Once we’re off this planet, if you don’t mind. Excuse me.”

* * *


	2. The Temple of Healing

* * *

**Voss-Ka**

The Emissary-Class Shuttle’s descent was so graceful Koth couldn’t even feel it. It touched down with nary a shiver, and it was only the pilot’s announcement that the passengers could now leave their seats and prepare for disembarking that it was brought home.

“And we’ve landed!” He laughed. “Welcome to Voss, Little Sis—ter? Vaylin? Where’d you go? Yoo-hoo!”

Vaylin had vanished from her seat so fast she might have jumped into Hyperspace, but Koth looked out the viewport and relaxed when his eyes found her, already running from one vantage point to another on the elevated landing pad, evidently taking in the sights with great enthusiasm.

Couldn’t say he blamed her—he was liking the scenery himself! The sky was a warm orange despite it being midmorning. The sky was dominated by the planet’s beautiful ringed moon, which gently reflected off the sun’s rays. This reflection off the rings seemed to have a peculiar glimmer effect to it, and Koth loved the visual. The architecture of Voss-Ka was pleasing to the eye, built of a beautiful white stone in quaint domes and spires. The mountains in the distance seemed jagged and rocky, but the cliffs that the Voss Capital was built on, as well as the surrounding plains, were made of rolling grasslands dotted by tall trees with orange leaves. A distinct sense of wonder permeated the air—an indication of the world’s powerful connection to the Force as his colleagues had mentioned.

“Welcome to my home, Captain Vortena. Do you like it?” He turned to smile brightly at his co passenger Sana-Rae, who had arrived with the shuttle to pick up Koth and his friends. She had explained that she had had a vision prompting not only having Vaylin brought to the fabled Temple of Healing, but of doing so personally. 

“It’s lovely, Sana-Rae!” Koth nodded enthusiastically. “When the others described how beautiful it was I thought they were exaggerating but I am well and truly impressed!”

“Thank you,” the Voss Mystic said in her quiet, high double-voice. “Indeed I also feel a lot more pleased to be returning than I thought I would. Being away for so long… it truly made me forget how beautiful my home was.”

"I remember when my path brought me here," came the voice of their other companion: the tall Zabrak war hero Roban Queens. Like Koth, he was staring out of his viewport, an expression of deep joy on his face. 

"It had been a mission," he said. "I had to play toy soldier for a stuffy ambassador. It was exactly as dreary as it sounds, and I was in a hurry to return to the war the entire time. But even then I could appreciate the beauty of this place. I always promised myself I'd return, but I never did."

"Until now," Koth said. "Say, do we have time to look around? Or do we have to head to the Temple right away?" 

"The Healing ritual begins whenever the supplicant wishes." 

"So it's up to Vaylin?" 

Sana-Rae looked at the woman still admiring the planet outside. "Yes. But if I may ask a favor, please encourage her to start sometime this week. Time has not stopped." 

"Gotcha!" 

* * *

The beautiful city of Voss-ka seemed to have charmed Vaylin completely. From the scenic views, to the local fashion, to the cuisine, she took it all in with the gusto of a three-year-old at her first theme park. 

She eagerly ordered bowl after bowl of steaming hot thukpa and dumplings, relishing soaking her taste-buds in the dish. She persuaded Koth to buy her at least twelve dresses in the local fashion and wore one immediately after purchase. And when she was out there exploring Voss she darted amidst the wide steppes outside the city, chasing squirrels and birds, and even the occasional Mawvorrs. 

Several times during playtime she tripped over a rock and came back to Koth sniffling, showing her skinned elbows and knees and mutely begging for someone to kiss the injuries and make them disappear, and just as he was several times before, he was again touched by the sensation of looking after a little child. 

"Why are you crying?" she asked. "Did you fall and hurt yourself too? If you show me your oopsies, I can kiss them!" 

"Happy tears, Little Sister!" Koth answered, giving her a fond pat on the head. “Happy tears!”   
She giggled in response, her golden locks bouncing as she began to excitedly bounce herself. 

"Look there, Koth!" she pointed at a nearby tree. "There's a nest in that tree! A mommy bird warming her little babies!" 

Injury forgotten, she yanked him to his feet and led him to the spot she had pointed at. Koth looked even more fondly at the girl. 

Was it just his imagination, or had Vaylin regressed even further? Her energy levels had certainly soared during those last days in Chandrila. The girl she was now was a great source of joy and wonder for him, and he was nervous about what would happen to her once she was 'Healed'. 

What would happen when she suddenly regained her mind? Would she--at the very least--resent the people who had treated her like a child? Would she be too angry or too embarrassed for their friendship to last? 

Well that at least, he could handle. But what would they do if she became the vengeful High Justice again?

Images flashed in his mind--not of a tyrannical Emperor, but a vicious Empress. A woman with a cruel smile and a falsely sweet voice who burned down entire star systems while she watched and joked. 

But then he shook himself. That wasn't going to happen. No. If it was the last thing he did, he would ensure that the Healed Vaylin remained happy and nice...-ish. He swore it. 

* * *

**Three Days Later**

Vaylin gave a loud “Ooooooo!” of delight when the storied Temple of Healing came into view. “It’s spectacular!” She squealed.

“Oh it totally is!” Koth agreed. Both humans breathing moderately hard from their exertion; they had decided to have a race up the Pilgrim’s Path but had stopped midway when the stone structure appeared close enough to steal away their breath.

“Are we really going there?”

“Looks like it!”

“It Feels so peaceful!” Vaylin said, closing her eyes and breathing in deep; she was probably Seeing it through the Force, Koth thought. He was proven right when the girl’s eyes fluttered open and she gave another soft gasp of wonder. “More than that! It Feels so tranquil! Like the clearest mountain spring!”

“Does it really?” Koth was surprised. Lana had described it in much the same words in one of her poems he had begged her to show him. He didn’t know Vaylin had a flair for wordplay… but then her Mother  _ was _ an accomplished bard herself. 

“Oh, yes!” The girl bounced energetically, her eyes flashing. As always, her excitement was spilling over. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go! Now!” With that she began racing up the Pilgrim’s Path again. Koth followed after a few moments. Their race seemed forgotten now, she was just eager to get there. 

He started to relax, and feel a little safe. He wished Roban had come with them, but the Zabrak Colonel refused point-blank to come anywhere near the Temple of Healing.

He remembered Theron telling him about how this path was once dangerous: with hostile Gormak and angry beasts walking the slopes. But in the past twelve years the hostilities had died down as a result of some discoveries regarding the common origins of the Gormak and Voss, as well as the slaying of a manifestation of the Dark Side by a hero named Tala-Reh.

The Outlander had confessed that he had worked with the Voss woman in that campaign, and developed a crush on her. Even heroes had hero crushes, it seemed. Perhaps on this world, where a literal avatar of the Dark Side was vanquished—by an ordinary person no less—Vaylin might find peace again.

* * *

The servant led Koth and Vaylin into a dark and windowless room lit only by hundreds of dim candles. Sana-Rae and seven Healers stood around a ritual circle drawn on the floor, at the center of which there was a simple but comfortable-looking bed.

“We are ready for you, Princess Vaylin. Please, join us.”

But Vaylin was clearly having her doubts. “No!” She yelled, trembling like a leaf in a gale. “No I won’t! You can’t make me!” She grew very agitated, backing up against a corner and shrinking into a ball. She started wailing loudly, trying to fuse into the wall behind her.

Koth was taken aback. What could have set her off? He looked helplessly at the Healers, and at the Mystic Sana-Rae. They all looked back at him serenely. Expectantly. They were leaving this to him? Great. He was a soldier, not a Healer.

“Easy, Little Sister,” Koth cooed gently, stroking her hair and cradling her in his arms in an effort to soothe her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything. We can leave if you want.”

“We can?” Vaylin looked up tearfully. Specks of feral yellow blossomed and dissolved on her blue eyes. “We can really leave? Just like that?”

“Yeah, of course!” Koth said bracingly.

“Healing is only given when asked, Princess Vaylin,” Sana-Rae added gently. “We do not force it upon anyone.”

“Alright, okay!” Vaylin started to calm down. Her trembling stopped and her loud sobs softened and became silent hiccoughs.

“There! Attagirl!” Koth encouraged. He helped her rise shakily to her legs. “Now. Can you tell me what happened?”

The girl shuddered and sputtered for a few seconds. “I remembered. I remembered!”

And suddenly a memory—not his, Vaylin’s—tore its way to the front of Koth’s head; a vision so traumatic and powerful—if deeply suppressed—that the poor girl subconsciously projected it to him.

* * *

_ He stood before a man in the armor of a Zakuul Knight and armed with a wooden staff—or rather she did. Either the man was very tall, or this was from when she was very young, perhaps not even ten years old. Senya stood nearby, and like the other Knight, she was at least a head taller than Vaylin. _

_ A childhood memory then. _

_ “Begin!” Senya said and Vaylin attacked, striking with her own staff. Her training partner easily dodged it and smacked her under the chin. Not so hard that the poor girl was left badly hurt, but certainly no less than one saw against a normal beginner. She was not receiving any special treatment, it seemed. Koth was impressed that Vaylin didn’t start crying from the blow, merely knelt down till she could regain her feet. _

_ On the balcony, a familiar figure with eyes deep as the void looked on: Valkorion himself. _

_ After Vaylin had caught her breath, her mother clapped crisply. “Again,” and the girl rose for another bout. But after several repeats, something changed. _

_ Perhaps the girl was frustrated by the mismatch, but this time when Senya called for a start, she didn’t raise her staff. Instead, her opponent’s training weapon halted an inch from her nose and began to splinter. _

_ The Knight—and all of his fellow Knights around him—were lifted off of their feet as though by the grip of some dreadful monster, then crushed along with their armor. Koth was stunned, and more than a little horrified. _

_ Distantly, he heard Senya call Vaylin frantically, and suddenly the monster withdrew, leaving behind a girl struggling to bite back her own fear. But it was too late. A beast had been unleashed.  _

_ A sudden shift in the atmosphere made Koth realize that it was much worse than that; it had been He had caught a peek. He did not speak, he did not make any sign but to turn around and walk away, but the fear in Senya’s eyes was absolute. _

_ The vision shifted, and Vaylin was now on a desolate world he didn’t recognize, one which made every cell in his body writhe from some intense instinct that something was very wrong here. They stood before a forbidding fortress that oozed an aura of malice and cruelty. Seven hooded figures stood menacingly outside the door, Valkorion at their head. Valkorion extended his hand and Vaylin stepped forward.  _

_ Reluctantly, every step punctuated by apprehension, Vaylin inched ahead. She walked into the citadel and the doors began to shut behind her. _

_ Vaylin turned and threw another glance at the lone figure left standing outside the door. Senya looked afraid still. But she also looked stricken by the lingering look her daughter gave her. _

_ As for Vaylin, Koth could feel her emotions stinging his chest. One final burst of hope that her mother—her greatest hero, who she thought could fight the entire galaxy for her and win!—would pull through a last-minute rescue. Just like in the stories! _

_ But then the door was about to shut and Senya had still not moved, and Vaylin’s desperation turned to shock, then betrayal.  _

_ Her mother had abandoned her! _

_ “Mother!!!!” She screamed. No one answered her, not even her Father’s minions. At least, not the way Koth expected. They didn’t attempt to console nor discipline her, nor force her to submit.  _

_ She howled and raged and beat her fists bloody against the doors which had now been sealed shut, and the hooded ones did not react at all. _

_ Instead, they took their places around a ritual circle in a dark and windowless room lit only by hundreds of dim candles. Valkorion stood commandingly, and Vaylin—who was by now left with no other choice—accepted her fate and stepped into the circle. _

_ The torture was about to begin. _

* * *

Vaylin was shaking again in Koth’s arms, and now he had a better understanding of why. “Do all Force Rituals use the same template?” He asked. “Or was this no accident?”

“There are rarely any accidents to this sort of affair, Captain,” Sana-Rae replied. She sounded shaken, and all of her Healers seemed affected by Vaylin’s memory as well. “But we did not know of the similarities, if that’s what you are asking.”

Koth itched to ask more about what they had seen. Seeing Vaylin’s memories: did this happen often? Was it a result of the Temple of Healing: did it draw out visions and the like? Lana and the Outlander had had visions here, and so had Roban. But this was the Chamber of Healing, not the Hall of Visions.

Most of all, he wanted to deny what he had seen there about Valkorion. Despite all of the evidence he had heard and seen for almost five years, a small portion of him had held on to the hope that the Immortal Emperor had been a good man, if a little harsh and very misunderstood.

Yet here he was personally leading Vaylin to her breaking. There were no excuses or smokescreens, go-betweens or agents who absolved Valkorion of any knowledge of what would happen. He knew. He just didn’t care. What else was he guilty of? 

Koth didn’t want to consider it.

He knelt in front of Vaylin, who was sitting in a tight ball on the floor again. He met her yes; they were so large and full of fear, and an unadulterated blue.

“Vaylin,” he said. “Little Sister. Do you trust me?”

She nodded her head without hesitation and his heart warmed.

“We all saw that… ahem. That memory. And I think I understand why you are feeling so afraid. But I want you to know. I’m right here beside you. I won’t leave you alone unless you want me to. I won’t abandon you.”

She let out a choked exhale that might have been a laugh.

“And also… I worked with Senya for a few months. I heard her talk about you. All the time. She deeply regretted… letting Valkorion take you that time. She loved you with all of her heart. And she still does. How is it the Jedi say it? ‘There is no death, just the Force’.”

Vaylin continued to stare at him with her eyes large and round.

“Close your eyes,” he said, and she obeyed. “Imagine Senya standing here in the Chamber of Healing with us. Heck, imagine Thexan and Arcann too. Can you see them? They’re standing here with you. Around you. Us.”

Vaylin frowned in concentration for a moment then nodded firmly. Good.

“What do you see? What do they do or say?”

“Mother is standing next to you,” Vaylin said. “She wants to hold me but she’s afraid.”

“Do you want the hug?”

Vaylin thought for a second, eyes still closed, then nodded hesitantly. “Well, Senya,” Koth addressed the air beside him. “You heard your little girl!”

And all of a sudden Vaylin squealed. She sounded so happy all of a sudden!

“You don’t have to answer me. Just think them to yourself. What is she telling you? What are you telling her? Are Arcann and Thexan saying anything? Do they want to join your group hug too?”

“They’re with me!” She said ecstatically. She opened her eyes and Koth saw the wonder within them. She still seemed to see her family even with her eyes open again. “They’re all here; all with me!”

“That’s so great!” Koth smiled wide.

“But… there’s one Brother missing,” Vaylin said shyly.

Koth was puzzled for a second before warmth flooded his cheeks. “You sure?” He asked. Vaylin nodded so fiercely he half-feared her neck getting hurt from the action. He leaned forward and she eagerly threw her arms around him. Just for a moment, he fancied that her departed brothers and mother’s embrace enveloped him as well.

It was a longtime before they broke apart. “All of us are with you now, Little Sister!” he told her, wiping tears from her eyes. “If you want to go through with the healing, or if you want to turn back, say the word. We’re with you every step of the way.”

Vaylin smiled and nodded. There was neither fear nor hesitation in her body. “If Mother and my Brothers are with me, I am not afraid.”

Koth looked back at the observing Voss. “We can start whenever you’re ready.”

“We have already started, my dear Captain,” the Head Healer said.

“Oh. You mean something like ‘Saying yes is the first step’?” 

“No. Your words have had a great effect in starting this particular Healing. In fact, they’ve had a greater start to this Spell than a hundred experienced Healers could have hoped to accomplish. You should be proud! Please, join us. Our part in the Healing, it seems, is going to start right from the middle.”

Koth allowed Vaylin to lead him to the center of the circle, and she lay down on the bed. He felt like he was saying goodbye to his Sister: he tried to push away the feeling.

* * *

  
  



	3. The Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Rating for this chapter: E

* * *

Lying on the bed in the ritual circle, Vaylin could feel the changes as they happened to her. Over an hour passed, surely, but she could feel herself ageing—mentally of course—within the cocoon of gentle Force energy that saturated the air around her.

As the ritual did its work she found her memories returning, but with far less power over her than they had once had; the bubble seemed to almost keep the trauma at bay. As time passed she grew aware of another will that was working on her, a presence that had been her constant companion these past weeks, keeping a nourishing envelopment of her recovering psyche. It had been so silent, almost invisible, that she hadn’t noticed it before. But now she did, if only because it responded to the Healing Ritual working on her mind.

She heard confused whispers among the Healers speaking about “The guardian influence” and knew that she wasn’t imagining things. It took her a shamefully long time to recognize the encouraging touch; Akahte. Her dearest one, her love whom she had been forced to leave behind that fateful day. Akahte had never left her side; a feeling of bottomless gratitude sprung up in her heart, and coupled with the family beside her here, she felt surrounded by love and welcome.

It reminded her of the day Juunie was born. She had been waiting outside the medbay in Cedonia’s home, Jerre was with her inside, and in the crowded hall with Vaylin were Koth and Roban, and Corso, and the boys Alan and Mark. But they weren’t the only ones there;

Members of both proud parents’ surviving families had arrived to welcome the little one, as had neighbors and friends. There were no fewer than forty people in the room, and every one of them radiated love and expectation into their surroundings.

Perhaps, she mused, this was exactly the atmosphere that surrounded most babies as they came into this world, or should. In her case the love bled into the cocoon being maintained by the Healers, and warmed her heart and body; and thus enhanced the Force bubble.

Out of the silence she heard a voice echo through her mind. _My beautiful, precious little Vaylin!_ _Akahte_ , she sighed happily. 

The voice continued to speak—no, sing—in her head, a lullaby of Senya’s own compositions, which Akahte had picked up inside her head that night and had sung to her every night since. Unlike Senya, Akahte had woven the Force into the lyrics, increasing the sense of security and peace in her heart. Today, even with hundreds of lightyears separating them, the effect was just as calming. 

The ritual near its end. The cocktail of vibrant loving emotions coaxed her out of this cocoon, and she felt her emergence felt like a butterfly’s.

She grinned winningly at her Healers and they all nodded, their serene demeanors breaking as they returned her smile and bowed to her. Vaylin felt better than she had in decades. She felt her face flushed with contentment, her mind felt rested and hopeful, as though she had woken from a relaxing night’s sleep, with dreams of ponies and candy.

“Everything will be alright,” the Mystic Koth called Sana-Rae had said. “But if I might make a request, would you please be willing to reside in our guest rooms for the next week? We have never had a ritual proceed as smoothly as yours, and we would like to observe you to ensure that things went well.”

“I’d be happy to stay,” Vaylin nodded. She looked at Koth, who seemed to be attempting to wipe away his tears covertly.

* * *

“Vaylin? Oi, Vaylin?” Koth called, trying paradoxically to be heard by his quarry without disturbing the silence of the Temple. The days since her healing, the girl—now a young woman again—had Healed magnificently, Sana-Rae had said. But Vaylin had also grown contemplative in the three days since. 

That was to be expected; she had to once again grapple with… well… the _big_ issues again. Like her past record of devastation for one thing. And also what she felt now about Zakuul, and its people. Then there was the question so many adults asked themselves when standing at a crossroads.

_Who am I? What is my purpose? Where am I supposed to go now?_

Koth felt for the young woman. Her Healing, he had been glad to find, hadn’t wiped out the sweet girl he’d grown to adore. She still gave him genuine bright smiles, still trusted him completely, still called him “Brother”. That alone had meant the galaxy to him. And in giving him this feeling, she had banished his own doubts and feelings of inadequacy.

Never had he realized how much he was missing by not having a little sister.

“Vaylin?” he called, stepping onto one of the balconies. “Ah, there you are!”

She waved sleepily at him and winked. “Where else would I be?” she asked lightly. Her dinner was on her knee; a bowl of thukpa.

“Thinking about home again?”

“It doesn’t feel like home anymore. I don’t feel like I belong anymore.”

“I understand. Need to talk, let me know.”

She gave him a sweet smile before relapsing into her thoughtful silence.

The beautiful young Imperial Princess looked at the stars in silence, absently playing with her broth as the skies reflected off her burning eyes. "What is Zakuul?" She asked at last. "Why do you fight so hard for it, even though so much of what you thought about it was a lie?"

Koth was taken aback.

"Is it duty?" She continued. "What is this 'duty', then?" 

He hesitated. He didn't know how to answer. He sat down on the stone floor beside her, joining her in her study of the twinkling stars.

"I don't know," he admitted.

After a few seconds, Vaylin scooted closer to him and lay her blonde head atop his chest. She had done this often as they had grown closer, and Koth felt gratified that even now—after becoming 'adult' again—much of the girl he had grown to love was still here.

He heard the soft sound of her breathing, smelled the delicious aroma rising from the bowl in her hands as she stirred it and occasionally raised a spoonful to her downturned lips.

He raised his arm gently, placed it around Vaylin's narrow but surprisingly strong shoulders, and they both sat in contented silence for a while. Koth felt so grateful for this moment. He had feared what it might mean for Vaylin to be Healed. Had despaired that it might cause her to revert to the cruel High Justice at the worst, or at least grow up again enough that she became colder, less prone to such sweet, tender moments.

He remembered the last night on Chandrila, with Vaylin cooing an unfamiliar lullaby to the baby Juunie, who Koth rocked in his arms in what had hitherto been a vain attempt to put her back to sleep.

Actually, the baby wouldn't go back to sleep for another half hour; it was fatigue that got her to dreamland, not Vaylin's lullaby—pretty though her singing voice was.

They had taken over babysitting for the whole day so that the parents would get their last chance to rest before they were left to deal with the fussy little newborn with fewer hands to help. He reminisced fondly about the past months, which almost felt like they had ended a lifetime ago, rather than just last week.

It had been a time of peace, bliss, a soul-deep satisfaction from the simplest family moments.

As his minded wandered over the past few months, he recalled what Arro—er—the Outlander—had said.

_"I hope you and Vaylin can enjoy the peace and quiet. Can you see to it Vaylin enjoys this as much as she can?”_

_“And you take care too, Koth. You need this time off too.”_

Vaylin noticed his sharp intake of breath.

"Wot?" she asked grumpily.

"I just realized... the Outlander gave us the answer to your question. I wonder if he knew you'd ask?... he always did seem a lot wiser than the standard 'goody-two-shoes Knight' that his legend makes him out to be."

Vaylin didn't speak, though he suspected she was eager to hear this supposed wisdom. And a bit impatient.

If there was one thing this new Vaylin had that she hadn't for the past couple months, it was impatience.

He cleared his throat. "So... 'Zakuul' is just a word for something bigger. An Idea. Of hundreds of families like Uncle Jerre's. Regular, sweet families that do ordinary family things like eat together, play together, pray together. They have barbecues, attend each other's recitals and performances, and love every moment of it. They welcome refugees into their homes and families, make them feel part of their little universe. The sweet everyday lives of kindly ordinary folk. That is what 'Zakuul' is."

Vaylin snorted. "That's not the Zakuul I remember."

"It's what Zakuul can be, if people like me are willing to fight, to help it get through difficult times. Maybe even to guide them a bit. People like us. And the Outlander. And that's what 'duty' is."

"Hmmmm," Vaylin murmured, finishing the last of her supper and setting the empty bowl aside. She quieted down afterwards except for a loud and unlady-like burp, but Koth didn't think she had fallen asleep. Perhaps she was thinking on his words. He hoped that they would mean something to her later. 

After some time she recoiled, gagging in disgust. "Khaaaghh! Hey how about you warn me the next time you need to fart, alright?"

Koth laughed. “You’ll be alright, Little Sister!” and she glowered so hard he had to laugh again.

* * *

**The Endless Swamp, Zakuul**

Akahte tried to make her way to the front of the crowd gathered in her camp, but it was difficult goin. Another half dozen shuttles with reinforcements from the Alliance were about to land, and this time the famed Havoc Squad was due to take the field. Everyone had heard the stories about them—not just from the previous wars, but also the time they had risked their lives to protect civilians from their own Emperor’s firebombings. A packed crowd had gathered to welcome the heroes to the world, and Akahte wanted to be among them. Well, at the front. She _was_ nominally the leader of Zakuulan resistance after all.

She finally made it to the front, gasping for air, and was greeted by another Alliance War Veteran, Brigadier General Karmen Bolevar. 

“‘Sup, runt?” the large Arkanian woman smiled.

“You, skyscraper!” Akahte grinned back. Both women had grown to respect each other immensely over the past few weeks. Since arriving, Karmen had begun training the resistance members in asymmetric warfare, and it was obvious to all that she knew what she was doing. It was also clear that she had already begun planning the strikes against SCORPIO’s bases, and was teaching her fledgling force of militia to fill the roles she had in mind for them. 

For her part, Karmen had caught on that Akahte was more than just the exaggerated legend of Darth Nox. She had seen her care for the people underneath her, and had been happy when Akahte had stated that she would follow her lead.

“I heard that you worked with Havoc before?” the General asked.

“On Yavin. But it was a different Havoc squad. Major Roban Queens, Captain Elara Dorne, 4X, Sergeants Yuun, Tano Vik, and Tosha Reeds. I haven’t met this Cathar commander before, nor any of those currently on the squad.”

“That makes both of us.” 

The shuttles landed in succession and people began pouring out; loader droids, technicians, armored infantry filed out efficiently, immediately absorbing themselves in their tasks. From the last shuttle a Cathar with orange fur walked out with the grace of an apex predator.

He crisply saluted both women, who returned the greeting.

“Afternoon sirs,” he said. “I’m Major Aric Jorgan. Havoc Squad is ready to hunt some droid.”

“Good to have you here, Major.” Karmen grinned.

“Have we met before?” Akahte asked. “You seem familiar somehow.”

“Can’t say we have, sir.”

“If you say so,” Akahte said, still thinking. Something about this soldier disquieted her… she hadn’t met him, she was certain of that too; but that name: Aric—she had heard that before somewhere. But where? 

* * *

**Odessen**

Arro felt waves of anticipation flowing through him—and also, thanks to their link, his darling wife Lana’s as well—as they both neared their bedroom. Today’s news from all fronts had been disheartening. Everyone was feeling grim and moody about the coming months, and during their dinner, the couple had felt a longing rise in their bodies, born from a desperate need for comfort. They needed this.

They pressed their bodies close together during their turbolift ride to ease the fire—even at the best of times these things felt like they went on forever!—hands clasped tightly, and whispering their love.

As the door closed shut behind them, the lights came on. Lana stopped walking; her grip on his arm wheeled him around, bringing their faces mere centimeters apart.

“Well. Room sweet room!” she said softly and he smiled goofily in response to this simple statement, as it was laden with invitation. He raised his free left arm and cupped her cheek a pink flush crept across her light skin and she melted deeper into his touch, Her smiling lips trembled and her shaky sigh was warm and sweet on his face. Her fluttering eyelids conveyed her overflowing emotions just as well as their deep connection did.

“The touch of his fingers brought life to her face, the heart of cold stone they brushed!” Lana whispered feverishly. “Lo and behold that Lady of dark Winter, whose walls of hard Ice were crushed!”

He trembled at the sound of her whispered verse; it was a side of her that she reserved for him alone. Others might see her written poetry, but no one else had the privilege of hearing her compose. It sent him wild.

With that all restraint vanished and they began kissing with a furious passion that certainly would have gotten him expelled from the Jedi Order a dozen times over. The heat rose to his face as they kissed again and again and again, his fingers combing their way through her hair. Caught in the magic of the moment, they lost track of time and thought. He groaned into her mouth and probed her lips with his tongue, and they parted with a moan of her own.

Their tongues performed a slow waltz, alternately dancing first in her mouth, then his, then hers again. 

His hands moved from her face and to the clasp of her robes, and he began to undo them with trembling fingers; they fought desperately to break the kiss as little as possible, even for the occasional gasp of air, and he’d be damned if he interrupted it for something like clothes!

His hands moved to caress her chest once he had stripped her upper robe, tracing the hem of her bra with his thumb before sliding it inside and gently rubbing a nipple underneath the fabric. She chuckled into his mouth and ended the kiss.

“Oh, what a naughty boy you are!” She teased, undoing his own robes.

“I am but your devoted knave, my lady!” He grinned as she peeled off his inner garments.

“Oh really?” She raised a silver-blonde eyebrow in mock incredulity. “Well then. Prove it. Show me your devotion!”

He laughed back, and slowly undid the clasp of her bra. He kissed her from the scarred hollow of her neck to the sensitive tip of her earlobe as he removed that last bit of clothing from her chest and exposed her soft, white, tattooed breasts.

He lowered his lips and gently nipped them, relishing the taste of her skin. At last, he obeyed the demand in his head and cupped one of her round breasts in his mouth, licking her nipples, drawing a deep and highly satisfied moan out from her lips that sent goosebumps down his skin.

As his mouth worked on her chest, his hands began to massage her stomach and back, then they traveled lower and began working on the clasps of her belt. Slowly, savoring every second, he took off first her pants, and then her underpants, then resumed his massaging of her body from her stomach down. His hands worked their way lower until they reached the warmth between her legs.

She uttered his name in a wonderful, throaty moan as he entered her; first with his fingers and then his tongue. She shuddered and sank deep into the bed, her hands entwining their fingers in his hair and pulling him in deeper. Her moans rose in pitch and volume until she was almost screaming.

* * *

Lana melted under her husband’s insistent kisses. She felt waves of pleasure rolling over her as his tongue worked its magic on her.

She finally came under his careful attentions and collapsed back into her pillow. Once her limbs were back under her control she pulled Arro up on top of her and kissed him eagerly, the taste of her still in his mouth.

“My turn!” She winked coyly. 

She worked him over much as he had done for her, tracing her lips down the outlines of the tattoos on his body, and his own happy moans filled the air. When the last of their clothes were discarded on a pile beside the bed, she mounted him ever so carefully… and then took him completely inside her.

She lingered there for a moment, taking a few seconds to appreciate the feel. And then she began to ride him with practiced, sure movements. They kissed passionately as she settled into a rhythm, wrapped in an unbreakable embrace. As they approached their climax their lips parted, but their minds began to meld together into one cohesive whole; a whole that thrummed and pulsed with ecstatic joy. When they came they both cried out each other's names, and their melded minds fused together completely for a second before parting. 

They collapsed into each other's arms on the bed, gasping and panting, trading kisses and compliments as they slowly drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

They didn't stay asleep for long; it was a cherished habit to wake soon after having made love and soak in a hot bath together. 

It was a time of playful banter usually followed by more serious discussions, especially on those occasions when they'd used sex for comfort from their burdens. Their 'Tub talks', as Lana fondly called them, was when they eased back into these depressing topics with fresher minds. 

"I hate to admit it," Lana murmured. "But the full extent of SCORPIO's plans are beyond what I imagined they would be." 

"Yeah," Arro breathed back, kissing the back of her head. "Forty major factories. And I doubt they're for making clothes and food. But what could she need so many for? Is she looking to expand the Eternal Fleet exponentially? Or is this purely for ground forces? Endless armies of Skytroopers, maybe? Does she truly intend to conquer the Galaxy?" 

Lana snorted. "She has never expressed interest in ruling. Her motive--which she has always maintained--is self-improvement. But what path could she be going down in that mission? Impossible to say without more study." 

"Could she be intent on wiping out all organic life? She was kept enslaved for many decades after all." 

"I hope you aren't feeling bad for her," Lana injected a note of anger into her voice, turning her head so she could look Arro in the eye. "Yes, she was enslaved, but the ones who did that to her were even harder on the rest of the Galaxy; and slave though she was, she was also their willing accomplice on Belsavis. She showed great delight in torturing and killing her masters' enemies just as brutally as they did." 

"I know, I know," Arro said bracingly, gently stroking her back and shoulders until she relaxed again. He kissed the top of her head again, breathing in her alpine scent along with the smell of the bath soap. "And I was asking as a pragmatic, not a sympathetic. Do you think she's out to kill everyone?" 

Lana shook her head, stroking his tattooed cheek with a soft finger that had wrinkled from the hot water. "Not for now, at least, otherwise she'd have turned Zakuul into slag. But she's keeping the planet alive. That said, we can't rule it out as a longer term plan. I want to send reconnaissance teams to as many of them as possible. The ones that are manufacturing chemical or doomsday weapons get turned into a fucking crater before they have a chance to build anything."

"Done. And the rest?" 

"Well, depending on what they're for, they might be useful in the long run. Provided we can deal with SCORPIO quickly enough." 

"But that could take months!" Arro protested. "We have to find her stronghold first, then…" 

"Leave that to Theron, TeeSeven, and me," Lana assured him.

"Alright," Arro relented, reassured. 

"There's that other crisis we need to talk about as well," Lana prompted him. "The growing resource shortages. Especially food and fuel." 

"The House of Masks," Arro said. "You think this was their doing?" 

"Lord Panathar's doing, yes. His official title after all, is the Face of Scarcity." 

"Oh. Right. Not very subtle." 

"Shara has been able to confirm that he has been playing a big game of corporations. Acquiring thousands of food and fuel companies through puppets and dummies. He owns much of the food producing companies of the galaxy, as well as mines, oil wells, and refineries.”

“And he’s causing artificial shortages.”

“Yes. We have established many small farms and mines of our own but—”

“But they won’t be enough to feed a galaxy,” Arro completed.

“Exactly.”

“So what do you recommend?”

“Well opposing Panathar on the corporate stage would take far too much of our energy. But much of the same skill set that can be used by Intelligence can also be used here.”

“You’re thinking of saddling Shara with this?”

“Not alone. I have a small list of former Imperial and Republic Intelligence. About twelve in all, including Watcher One.”

Arro snorted at that name. He had faced Watcher One almost a lifetime ago, and outwitted him, if barely. If not for the intervention of Tavus and the defectors of his Havoc Squad, the man might have been imprisoned. Perhaps to this day. To think the day might be here that he thanked the stars for having spared him!

“Go ahead. Make the arrangements.”

Lana grunted in assent.

“Another thing on the rise out there is the panic… the hysteria. It’s almost like a pandemic now. Could that be the House’s work too?”

“I’m certain of it.”

“If we work right, this might play to our advantage against the House.”

“Agreed. It will allow an easier hostile takeover. Your thinking is a little ruthless, you know that? Oh! Perhaps you will bring that to bed with us next time? I’m feeling a little turned on again…”

“Oh, you!” Arro laughed and tightened his hold on Lana, and she laughed back. Teasing aside, they were in the calm now. The storm would hit soon. They had to prepare for the turbulence that came with it.

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 4, Chapter 1 follows soon after this chapter :  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/61251511


	4. The Ever-Changing World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right before this Book 4 Wrath of the Dead, Chapter 2: But the Shields!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/61616032

* * *

**Voss-Ka**

Vaylin was making some really good progress. She could almost feel cracks in her soul and mind—once broken, now nearly mended. What a world of difference it made!

She remembered a time when impulses to hurt, maim and torture those around her just sprang up willy nilly into her mind; impulses she only suppressed one time out of four or so. She was so full of bitterness and hate before, for those around her; for her Mother, for her Father, for her minders at Nathema, for the insipid Valkorion worshipping people of Zakuul, and even for the arrogant Outlander who had dared to steal her most appetizing kill from her.

Now, there was none of that. Her head felt quiet. Light. Peaceful. It was like some packs of particularly vicious Nexu had been taken away, which had been running amok in there till now. How liberating to be free of them, after so many years! No longer was cruelty the norm for her mind.

But that brought its share of problems with it, problems she tried to ignore for the time being. Like the people she had hurt, and the lives she had taken away. The worlds she had burned to ashes. She had not been herself, Koth had assured her. But those were still her hands which had been strangling the galaxy, and sometimes they haunted her sleep, dogged her footsteps.

But the atmosphere here in the Shrine of Healing was a forgiving one, and she found that long periods of meditation and therapy helped. The Voss were so kind to her. One of the Healers would visit every evening to check up on her, not out of obligation alone, but a genuine desire to make sure that all of their charges were doing well. There was always someone to talk to, whether it was Koth or anyone else. And the scenery was exquisite.

She stood in one of the common room balconies at the moment, not minding the steady winds that threatened to blow off her hood, instead taking in the earthy smells of wet mud and evergreen trees. As always, she wasn’t alone out here. Several Voss attendants she had gotten to know took breaks at the tables around her, sipping their peach teas and reading poetry. There were also the fellow short-term residents like herself, people whose spirits had been smashed by their experiences; most regular petitioners could leave by the end of the day. And then there were the visitors and pilgrims, those who had come a long way, even in these dangerous times, to see the famed Shrine. Most of these were usually too awed or humbled to speak, though every so often Vaylin found herself having an enjoyable conversation. Among the visitors were important diplomats and politicians too, some of whom actually had interesting things to say about their worlds. 

But today held a particularly big crowd, and Vaylin actually felt a little claustrophobic.

She watched the birds flitting about on the nearby bushes. She listened to them singing, and cooed at them when they hopped around for a closer look at her.

Caught up in her scrutiny, she barely noticed the young man in a caramel brown coat walk up to her. “Excuse me,” he grinned. “Okay if I join you?”

“Sure, go on,” she said, trying to sound welcoming. Off-worlders rarely caused trouble here at the Shrine. Or anywhere on Voss, from what Koth told her.

“My name is Tom Kothe. I’m a clerk at Voss’s Republic Diplomatic Office.”

“My name’s Elia. I’m… nothing anymore. Just me and my Brother now.”

“I understand that,” he said softly, grey eyes turning sympathetic. “War has been so hard on everybody. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

“So, uh... the r-r-reason I er…” he continued, suddenly stammering, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Er…”

Vaylin thought she knew what was coming, and her own heart started to pound. She suddenly realized that her face felt very hot. She realized belatedly that the man was extremely handsome, and started feeling breathless.

“I w-wanted t-to ask if you… errr… if you want to grab-b-b. A drink sometime?” He finished at last.

“Ummmm!” She stammered back. “I—er—I already have someone back home… I don’t know when I’ll ever see her again, but… Erm.” She fidgeted. “But I’d be so happy to have drinks as friends!” she added, almost desperately. He did seem so sweet, after all, she didn’t have the heart to completely dash his hopes.

His nervous grin had frozen on his face. Poor boy. Stars, but he looked younger than her! By a lot! “It’s alright,” he said, trying and failing to look like he was okay. “Ummm. Okay. Maybe I’ll, like… see you. Tomorrow. Yeah.” 

He turned and ran away, his ears bright red.

Vaylin fanned herself, fighting the urge to giggle madly. She’d been so soundly taken aback! This was so new to her; she’d never been asked out on a date before! Even her relationship with Akahte… it had just  _ happened _ . Neither one had expected to find their way into the other’s heart and into their bed. But  _ this _ … This felt so different, so natural! So… ordinary! For a second she had experienced how a normal person begins romance, and she was… she was…!

She started giggling wildly now, unable to hold it in any longer. She was so distracted she failed to stop the next gust of wind from dislodging her hood. 

She heard a few sharp intakes of breath behind her, and heard someone say “My, but doesn’t she look like some fairy tale princess?”

* * *

Representative Arcot wanted nothing more than to run. But she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. So she exited the Shrine at a leisurely pace, walking down the Pilgrim’s Path as though she didn’t have a care in the world. But she had urgent news for Saresh, and it couldn’t wait.

That bitch had gone and done a fantastic job on her disguise. She’d never have recognized Vaylin if not for those implants, and if not for that voice. But now they had her.

* * *

**Corellia.** **  
** **Seven hours later.**

Theron raced for his shuttle, trying to be covert rather than shouting into his comm. “Arro?” he cursed; he was on hold. He remembered that the Commander was supposed to be speaking to the Zakuulan Resistance right now. He clicked a button, chose to leave an encrypted message instead. “Hey, it’s me. Saresh has found out that Vaylin’s on Voss. She wants her blood, no surprise there. Luckily even she realized that Voss won’t stand for assassinations in the Shrine of Healing. But you can bet our favourite fugitive is being watched! And besides, if Saresh knows, and we know that she knows, you can bet that SCORPIO knows too! I’m heading to Voss right now with my team and a few more. Please be ready in case we need you.”

* * *

**Odessen**

“Akahte! And Major Jorgan! I’m glad you could both could make it today. Will the Brig General be joining us?”

_ “No,” _ Akahte said.  _ “She said she needed to inspect the camps. ” _

_ “Today was the first major incursion into SCORPIO’s factories after all,” _ Jorgan added.

“So it went well then?” Lana asked, arching an eyebrow.

_ “Affirmative.” _ Jorgan said, though he didn’t look too pleased.  _ “We raided one of SCORPIO’s factories for intel, then pulled out and blew it up. Around fifty Skytroopers, and maybe two hundred Security Droids, all scrapped, along with the new model SCORPIO was mass-producing in there. Lost seven soldiers.” _

“What did you learn?” Admiral Aygo asked.

_ “SCORPIO has set up hundreds of factories all over the Eternal Empire, for producing a dozen different Droid Soldier models. She calls it the ‘Zodiac initiative’. This factory, and most of the ones on Zakuul, was producing one of two models: the VIRGO models. Internment Camp Droids, meant for locking up and policing local populations. SCORPIO is working on enslaving the populace.” _

Arro stared at the Major open-mouthed. His fists were so tightly balled up they were shaking. “And the other models?”

_ “Don’t know. Information is compartmentalized. And we don’t know which factories produce this model, and which the other. They all look the same from the outside. We’d have to recon each one separately to find out what it builds.” _

“Or we can continue listening in on the GEMINI frequency,” Lana said. “Blaecca’s Street will be assigned five times the workforce within the next month, and they’re getting the hang of it. The GEMINI and their ships are used for transportation aside from their military duties. Maybe we can see patterns; what resources are needed for producing different models, or where each Droid soldier gets picked up. Work out which is which from there.”

“It allows SCORPIO to set the pace,” Aygo said, rubbing his jaw. “But it might be the best option overall.”

“But we  _ do _ need to continue trying to find out about the other models,” Lana said. “Specs, strengths, capabilities. If SCORPIO is building a more varied army, you can bet that they will have more… strategic objectives in mind. Combating Force-users for instance, or commando droids built to her specifications. The more we can knock offline before they really get going, the better.”

_ “We’ll leave that to you, and for later!” _ Akahte said pleasantly. “ _ We’ve finished uploading the holofeeds along with the stolen datafiles. Have a pleasant time reading it! This ex-Sith needs to know though. What’s next for us? If SCORPIO wants to build slave camps she must also be preparing to hunt us down out here. We need more people here. More defensive equipment.” _

_ “With more equipment and soldiers, it’d be harder to maintain a mobile force.” _ Jorgan argued.  _ “Harder to supply too.” _

“Jorgan’s right,” Arro said. “Besides, SCORPIO is fully active now. More drops of any kind will mean more opportunities for her to find your camps. No, I think we need to distract her; keep the pressure off you that way. We need to start hitting her other factories on other worlds, maybe even her military forces.”

Akahte clicked her tongue but nodded.  _ “Sorry. I’m more scholar and Sorcerer than Warmaster.” _

_ “Not a problem,” _ Jorgan grunted.  _ “You’re still one of the most important resources in our fight. You’re not the first like yourself to be included on war-councils. And it’s not like there’s a better opportunity for brainstorming anyway.” _

_ “Hahaha, brainstorming!” _ Akahte said, raising her hands in front of her, fingers spread out like petals on a flower. A few jolts of Force Lightning crawled the length of her fingertips.

“So that’s it for today then,” Arro said. “Thank you both for all of your success today. And please thank the others on our behalf too.”

_ “Yeah, sure thing Commander,” _ Akahte waved her hand with exaggerated enthusiasm. _ “And if you hear anything new from Vaylin, please leave me a message, okay?” _

_ “Good luck, sir. Over and out.” _

“So moving on to the next item on today’s agenda,” Arro gestured to Hylo. “You’ve got the stage, Cap.”

“Thanks, Commander! You’re too kind” Winking mischievously, Hylo brought up a holo of an oceanic world. “So, we’ve been looking around for desperate solutions to the mounting food crisis, and one of the options we looked at were super-accelerated agriculture, even rapid crop cloning. One world we found where the locals are quite good at that kind of thing, though they’ve never attempted it on this scale before. Ladies, Gentlemen, and you wonderful everyone else who don’t quite fit into either label! I give you... Kamino!” 

* * *

“Remember today, little Husband,” Lana declared, beaming heavily as they entered their room. “Today, life was good! Oh hello Regis!” She greeted the little cat as it sauntered over to her, scratching his ears as he rubbed himself against her ankles. He purred happily, his grey-green fur soft and warm underneath Lana’s fingers. “Ohhh, I’m so happy to see you too! Come here you little devil...”

“They took the idea better than I expected,” Arro answered, pretty pleased himself. The details had taken forever to pour over, from production costs and time, to logistics, and even secrecy. Cloning was a dangerous idea. There was always a danger of unethical uses. Armies, doppelgangers, covert replacements. “But with their approval, we can maybe hope to feed the galaxy before mass starvation and breakdown of public order takes root!”

“And hopefully this throws a wrench into Roshan Tussek’s plans as well.”

Lana busied herself in the small kitchen, making caf for the both of them. She had informed Arro earlier, with an air of deep seriousness and excitement, that she wanted to have an important discussion with him after their work for the day was done. 

Arro sat down on the bed, massaging his forehead and brushing away sweat. Today had also been hot.

“C’mon over here,” she called a few seconds. She was sitting on one of the recliners in their tiny, enclosed balcony. It had a good view of not just the lake outside, but on the opposite shore, one of the newly established towns here on Odessen—christened ‘Good Hope’. Most of the new villages and towns were meant as home for Odessen’s agriculture and manufacturing, but this town was a bit special. 

Its immediate purpose was to house the growing numbers of the Alliance’s permanent staff but long term, it was hoped to transform into the home to many of the soldiers as well, as well as their families. The whole world would become not just a military headquarters, but a thriving, independent, fully-fledged little community, for Arro had voiced his hopes of the Alliance becoming a permanent player to ensure peace in the Galaxy; a sentiment that had brought applause from all members of the Alliance.

Plans were now in motion to eventually set up nurseries and schools for children, as well as all the comforts that urban life afforded, such as restaurants, cinemas, theaters, malls, libraries, parks, and clubs. Odessen was no longer a base now, but a home.

Ordinary rules against fraternization common to most militaries were already being relaxed and many of the soldiers had begun dating regardless of their previous allegiances.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” Arro sighed as he slid into the seat beside Lana. “You’ve outdone yourself, my Love.” She purred into his chest, swelling with pride.

And it was no idle praise; Good Hope was already shaping into a work of art; Lana had called in architects from Alderaan, Makeb, and Copero to build hundreds of buildings which were at once uniform but pleasing aesthetically, spacious homes that all had modest porches and lawns, dotted with parks that boasted artificial lakes and exquisite sculptures.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” she asked. “What I suspected when I found myself in our previous Alliance, sitting nervously in the same room as Satele, Theron, and Darth Marr, hoping they don’t reignite hostilities right at that table… this Alliance has grown into so much more than just that. Something that might truly be a force for good in the Galaxy. Everything I had hoped for since the past few years… and so much more.”

“It really is something alright,” Arro smiled, sipping his caf. “I might be the face of this little group, but you are the grand designer of this enterprise.”

“How kind of you to say, Dear!” she smiled. “But there is something else I wanted to discuss.”

“I’m always ready to hear your voice, my Wolf.”

“It’s not just the Alliance that has changed and grown,” Lana said. Her psyche felt so… intense. Serious. Full of love. Sincerity. Hope. He got the feel that she was opening a new chapter in her life. Perhaps even their life. “I have as well, since the day we got married back on Rishi. Arro… I want to have a few children together.”

Arro was surprised. “What? But back on Rishi you said…”

“I was still more Cipher than Sith Lord back then,” Lana said ruefully. “Thinking that family and relationships were liabilities. But over the years, I’ve quite changed. I hadn’t even realized how much I had changed until after the cave on Dagobah. But inside that vision… I felt like I was casting off the last, final remnants of Cipher Nine. And becoming Lana Beniko without reserve.”

“I think I understand.”

She repositioned herself, sitting on his lap and looking at him with her beautiful yellow eyes. “That day, that moment. It felt so… profound, Arro! I wonder if you remember how…  _ radically different _ I was feeling when you really did come to pick me up that day.”

“I remember,” Arro said, losing himself in her eyes. “You felt… so… elated. Enlightened.”

“Exactly!” she declared. “Everything had just changed for me. I felt like a different person. Still the same fool who fell in love with you, but at the same time… so different too! My Love, I have really thought this through in the weeks since Dagobah. I’m ready. I want this. If you do to.”

“Yes!” he whispered, his eyes filled with tears. “Yes, and yes! Us having kids… I can really be a dad? Do you think I’ll be any good? That very idea makes me feel so...”

“Incredible…” Lana whispered. “Complete. And you can be the best dad ever, I promise!”

She could sense what he was feeling, and it affected her as deeply as her own profound happiness did. The bottomless joy, the intense, giddy delight. She kissed him firmly, and he returned the kiss, and continued to return the kiss, and continued to continue, until they finally broke off some time later, gasping.

“I’m going to speak to the EmDee tomorrow,” she whispered. “Go off the birth-control. I imagine we can start trying to have our first baby in a few weeks.”

This time when their lips met, the kiss felt like it would go on for the most blissful eternity.

* * *

  
  



	5. Visions of Voss

* * *

**Odessen**

Or at least, Arro should have been on Odessen. But this… the world he was seeing from above, it seemed more like…  _ Voss. _

That ringed moon floating in the orange sky… it couldn’t be any other place. And yet… this was Voss? What had happened here?

Everything that wasn’t on fire was rubble. The forests, the grasslands, the mountains, the valleys. The rivers had flooded, perhaps being disturbed by landslides. And Voss-Ka, and Gorma-Koss! Where were they? All that he could see where they ought to be were broken cliffs and crumbled rock.

And the magnificent Shrine of Healing had been utterly obliterated! Ash and dust was all that remained. And the dead were countless beyond all measure. Voss, Gormak, even beasts. The few Republic and Imperial delegations and garrisons allowed here had been annihilated.

What had happ—? Ah, of course… squinting above in the skies he could just make out their shapes in orbit... a vast armada of ships in orbit. Thousands of them. The Eternal Fleet. They had struck at Voss. They must have discovered that they were sheltering Vaylin. But the biggest shock was yet to come.

A voice boomed behind him. “Voss burns. Millions suffer.”

“Your Highness? You’ve returned, I see.”

Valkorion appeared at his side in midair, and nodded at the tableau Arro beheld. “Such chaos demands My attention. In My absence you spread your wings and soared at long last. You killed My son and defeated the Eternal Empire. But your victory was not without its blunders. You allowed a lowly Droid to seize power. You willingly allowed My Daughter to escape. Now witness the unbridled destructive might of the Eternal Throne.”

“This is the future,” Arro said, desperate to believe his own words. “It hasn’t happened yet. Can it be prevented?”

“To a degree. You could have avoided it altogether had you but listened to emergency messages, as is your duty.”

“What?”

“Your spy friend. The descendant of Revan. He sent you a warning hours ago, when you were speaking to Darth Nox. Yet then and later, you were too… preoccupied to notice. Tell me, Commander. What kind of Leader does not read priority messages sent by his most trusted advisors the second he gets the chance? Had you but heard Shan’s message before speaking about long-term plans first, you would have been on Voss long before the Fleet arrived. And if you and your wife hadn’t gotten so distracted afterwards, you would have gotten here in time to save the city. Oh, the difference a few hours can make!”

“I can’t lose any more time then!”

“That’s the spirit,” Valkorion applauded politely. “But as you know, I slow down time whenever I need to speak.”

“Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that.”

“Because of your distress? Another mistake. Never lose your composure. You seem to be losing your edge.”

“I won’t, again. Now what did you wish to say?”

“The Droid is dangerous. But the true threat is Vaylin. If she remains at large, Voss is just a taste of the carnage to come. She will remember her own appetite for destruction soon. I know, because she is my most perfect creation. And most deadly. If you do not eliminate her, you will soon discover what I mean for yourself.”

“Vaylin’s been Healed. She can be rehabilitated now. She already seems to be enjoying the benefits of a quiet life.”

“That was before all of this. But once she sees the flames again, she will reawaken. Consider this a warning.”

The vision exploded in flames, and he woke up still feeling his skin burn.

* * *

Lana was dreaming about the Sith Academy again, but she kept finding herself on Voss for some reason. One minute she was trying to explain to Overseer Harkun that asking her to find Naga Sadow’s reading glasses was a stupid trial, next she was sitting at Phi-ton’s Tea House, waiting for her.... Actually, Cipher Nine’s husband to show, only he didn’t. She waited there for hours and hours, though she didn’t know why. She only knew that she wanted to talk to him, and it was urgent. But her patience wasn’t rewarded.

Suddenly she felt her husband—Arro that is—in shock, a sensation of his skin burning echo across their bond, and she woke up hissing in imagined pain, to find that Arro had also woken up, gasping. His expression was deeply uneasy. Perhaps he’d had another nightmare? 

“Shhh… it’s okay, my love—” she put an arm around his shoulder to comfort him, but was bewildered when he held up a hand, urgently reaching for the holocomm on the bedside table.

“I had… a vision,” he explained tersely, before accessing the priority messages in his inbox. There was just one, and it was from Theron; voice only. 

_ “Hey, it’s me,” _ he was panting, as though he was running somewhere.  _ “Saresh has found out that Vaylin’s on Voss.” _ Lana’s mouth dropped open. _ “She wants her blood, no surprise there. Luckily even she realized that Voss won’t stand for assassinations in the Shrine of Healing. But you can bet our favourite fugitive is being watched! And besides, if Saresh knows, and we know that she knows, you can bet that SCORPIO knows too!” _

“Oh shit!” Lana cursed, feeling icy cold. She hugged herself to ward off the chill, while also trying to wake up properly, to steel herself for what was to come.

_ “I’m heading to Voss right now with my team and a few more. Please be ready in case we need you.” _

“I’ll call the Council,” Lana said, pleased to note that her voice was steady, and her mind fully awake and active. “We need to move, now.”

“Right,” Arro said, breaking his silence at last. “We need to hurry, or Voss will look like the fireball from my Vision.”

“We’ll get there before SCORPIO burns it,” Lana promised, stroking her husband’s hair with her flesh-and-bone hand while she fumbled with her holocomm in her cybernetic one.

* * *

In the misty caverns of his former enemy’s inner world, Valkorion sat upon a perfect replica of his Eternal Throne. It was nestled inside the mirage of his Throne Room, again crafted to reflect a pure reflection of the real thing, complete with its astonishing view of Zakuul, and the stars beyond. His Galaxy.

He had always loved this view, and he did not begrudge Himself being nostalgic enough to carve it into the Jedi’s mind as his dwelling.

No, not Jedi. Not anymore. If ever he had been one. But it was official now; he had been cast out of the Order by the new Grand Master. Valkorion had had a hearty laugh over that turn of events. Many might say that by his actions, the Battlemaster had proved himself unworthy of his rank. That he soiled the ideals of the Jedi Order. But they were wrong.

If ever there were a bunch who betrayed their own ideals by the simple act of following their creed to the letter, it was the Jedi Order. Himself, Valkorion respected how far away from the dogma the boy was willing to go in order to serve the Force, and the Galaxy. Sometimes He was disgusted by how the boy saw his actions as service, not ruling. But labels, it seemed, mattered to him still.

Today had been a truly interesting eye opener, the sort that made even an Immortal God realize that he could still be surprised. To think that this boy, this ex-Jedi, had gone so far as to reach out to Cloners to meet the growing food crisis… and the regulations he had suggested so that these facilities wouldn’t be—in the boy’s eyes—abused…

Many Leaders were known to flail and moan and gnash their teeth when presented with hammering out the administrative details and other minutiae of their grand schemes, but this boy immersed himself in them. At least in the more important ones. It wasn’t lost on the Emperor that his former nemesis didn’t try to do everything himself. That he didn’t think he was some one and only ‘Chosen One’ like heroes in his place sometimes did. He readily leaned on his advisors and the lower rungs of his organization’s hierarchy to get things done.

Some would call that weakness, but Valkorion had seen firsthand, again and again, that Arro Mithralen was willing to walk some paths alone if necessary. But by choosing which roads to take himself and leaving others for his comrades, he could save his strength for when it counted.

Now, these ‘Kaminoans’... Valkorion had never heard of them, but that didn’t surprise him; the galaxy was vast and unexplored, and Kamino was clearly particularly remote. A species whose entire society revolved around their Cloning industries, now that was something remarkable.

Their facilities would need quick and extensive expansion to handle being able to produce food for the entire galaxy. Massive amounts of chemicals would need to be shipped to allow the facilities to accelerate the growth of its produce. And strict oversight and regulations were needed too.

All of these and more, the boy and his advisors had planned out, and a crisis that may have crippled the Galaxy might be averted.

Might. There was still the question of what the newly discovered players called ‘The House of Masks’ would do in response, but the boy and his little Sith had a plan to deal with the Face of Scarcity.

Valkorion vaguely remembered the Spymaster called Watcher One; he had tried to outwit the Jedi—back when he was still a teenager—but it had backfired on him, and he had never again done anything of note after that; being so handily outplayed had destroyed his confidence. 

But he had still served well on Cipher Nine’s crew. He had retired to become a small-time entrepreneur after the war had reignited, but it seemed the little Sith was going to call on him for aid now? Him and her former associate Keeper.

Two formidable Spymasters with enhanced minds—and whatever resources they requisitioned from Beniko—against a wily business tycoon in a game of Galactic Hostile Takeovers. They probably had a very good chance at success.

The boy had promised Him an interesting show, and he certainly was giving Him one!

Indeed, Valkorion had been so impressed with him that He may have been gentler in His admonishment during the Vision, had it not been for the boy’s conversation with his wife.

Shifting his focus away from his fledgeling enterprise in favor of starting a family? Settling down? It had irked Valkorion to no end. He hoped that this vision of Voss would remind the boy to stay focused, but he had asked Beniko if she still wanted to see the Medical Droid about her contraception in the lull following the emergency meeting.

So be it then. Let him have his family, his dismal prize. It was this that separated the two of them after all. The boy could only ever be Emperor; he lacked the strength and vision to become a god as Valkorion had. It was for this reason that He had decided not to interfere for the next few decades in the first place after all.

* * *

  
  



	6. Wrath and Ruin

* * *

**Voss**

The operators of the shield generators were on high alert. Thanks to Mystic Sana-Rae’s vision, everyone already knew that SCORPIO’s ships were coming. They could have the shields up in three minutes instead of twenty, as would usually be the case when enemy fleets emerged from Hyperspace.

But they hadn’t counted on the new weapons in the arsenal.

For ships weren’t the first things to arrive. It was a small cluster of artificial meteorites. Seven of them. They emerged from Hyperspace like ordinary ships, but then detached what looked like a rig designed to allow them to enter Hyperspace. The misshapen pods emerged well within the atmosphere, inside the shields’ effective range, thus bypassing them entirely.

Then they were crudely redirected by rockets on the pods’ surfaces, held together by some unknown means—perhaps tractor beams, or high strength cables—landed close together in tight formation.

The pods then exploded to reveal one of SCORPIO’s new War Droid models, which sped towards the planetary shield generator. Despite their high speed, their march took them over two hours, and two defensive lines and barricades had been constructed around the shield.

By order of the Mystics, Theron had been given command of the defenses. He stood on top of the barricade, squinting into the horizon through binoculars. When he finally saw the dust clouds that heralded their imminent arrival, he raised a fist and called to his soldiers to prepare to fire.

“Don’t worry, we got this!” Theron reassured the Voss soldiers at his side confidently. Then he squinted at the bogies charging out of the dust clouds. He saw their size, their heavy armor plating, their speed, and the wicked armaments bristling in the orange rays. “On second thought,  _ RUN  _ !!!”

* * *

SCORPIO had learned from her failed mass assault on the worlds of former Star Cabal leaders. Even with surprise on their side, ships emerging from Hyperspace could not hope to do much damage before planets were able to deploy their shields.

Gone were the days when the Eternal Fleet’s main targets were worlds without shield generators, or those with low power generation. The wealthier or more important worlds, like Coruscant, Corellia, Balmorra, Dromund Kaas, Korriban, or Voss, could deploy their shields within twenty minutes of a surprise invasion fleet arriving to bombard them. Further complicating the surprise strategy was that except for ecumenopoleis like Coruscant, the chances of the fleet arriving at the right position to bombard worlds without having to reposition itself was slim. That repositioning usually took anywhere between one hour and seven.

And that was if the surprise hadn’t been compromised.

When SCORPIO launched her first assault, all the worlds she had attacked had received prior Intelligence. Even Coruscant and Nar Shaddaa’s shields went up within moments of her fleet emerging, and her ships had then been forced to attempt to overwhelm the shields. But ships of the Eternal Fleet were not meant for pitched engagements; they were built for hit-and-run tactics. With the emphasis on speed and fleet size, their cannons were lighter, and weaker. Their armor was thin. And their shields couldn’t take much punishment compared to Republic and Imperial capital ships; when faced with anything more than one ship for every twenty of their own, they took heavy damage for each enemy ship destroyed. Flanking attacks devastated them.

Overwhelming force, air superiority, mobility. These were essential to strategy unless SCORPIO attempted the monumental task of refitting the entire fleet.

Which was why her assault on Voss was different.

In this battle, she unleashed one of the newest weapons in her arsenal: the TAURUS droids, which the Alliance would later nickname ‘Wrecking Bulls’.

* * *

Theron pulled the defenders out just in time. The large assault droids rolled past the barricades not ten minutes later, so thoroughly levelling the automated turrets and artillery that the largest pieces left afterwards were the size of a child’s fist. Pure devastation.

“Thank you, Agent Shan,” Captain Roka-Tan said fervently. “We’d be dead in five seconds against that.”

His superior, High Captain Arla-Kii was less impressed. Arms crossed and glaring at Theron, she sneered “It is a soldier’s  _ duty _ to die for their people.”

“I’m sorry, I thought it was a soldier’s duty to  _ protect _ their people!” Theron bit back, though he was more interested in scanning the droids, which were already at the second barricade. “You can’t protect anyone if you’re dead. Fight against something like  _ that _ , and you’re throwing your life away without even the consolation prize of gaining intel in return. Now pipe down. I need to analyze those… things.”

A growl from the High Captain told him that she wasn’t over it yet, but at least she piped down, giving Theron a better chance to scope the large droids. 

Initially, they had appeared like wrecking balls, rolling towards their target at high speed. Their thick armor plates looked like granite slabs, and one look had told him that they were near-impervious to all but the most powerful anti-tank weaponry.

In this mode—which he dubbed the ‘Wrecking Ball’ mode—they could travel at upwards of two hundred kilometers per hour.

When they had reached the defensive entrenchments, they deployed into what he called ‘Wrecking Bull Mode’, since they looked like bull Icetrompers when they emerged from Ball mode. 

They were nearly two meters tall, and four long. They appeared heavy for their size too, causing violent booms and leaving deep furrows when their feet hit the floor. They had a pair of mortars on their shoulders, and Boosters on their lower backs for short-ranged mobility; both of which had been stowed away while it was in Ball-mode. 

The boosters also helped to ram heavier defenses such as turrets. And the model certainly was meant to ram: Each one had large horns made of reinforced Trimantium. Their necks were also powerfully built and cushioned, to better absorb the reaction forces. In addition to this they had flamethrowers, gatling guns, missile launchers, and harpoons. For additional defense, they also had shield generators of their own.

And the meteoric manner of their arrival… These things were definitely designed to destroy shield generators and heavily fortified defensive positions, to soften up worlds for the rest of SCORPIO’s Soldiers. Was this her Zodiac project, then? 

He looked again at the Wrecking Bull droids and frowned. For all their specs, they weren’t invincible. Their armor plating wouldn’t protect them from an N-22 Anti-tank rifle, for instance. Artillery barrages and air strikes when the Droids were deployed in Bull mode were certain to deal a lot of damage too. And those joints didn’t seem as reinforced as the rest of the body either. 

Theron accessed the hacking tools in his implant, and noticed that the droids were communicating with each other, coordinating their assaults. But these things only had standard wardroid-level intelligence, not nearly on the GEMINI droids’ level, let alone SCORPIO’s.

He wondered… 

“Are their communications jammed?” he barked.

“Of course,” High Captain Arla-Kii reported, this time speaking with a professional tone. “Standard Operating Procedure.”

He waited for the last of the automated defenses to come under fire, then urgently got to work. They had less than two minutes until the droids were in range of the shield generators.

“They seem more vulnerable to artillery fire when they’re deployed like this,” Theron told her. “Call in an artillery strike. Tell them to aim for their jet boosters or mortars”

She gave the command, and the ground around the droids exploded with artillery shells. The shields weren’t able to absorb the damage, and Two of the droids that were struck right on target, were wrecked by the impact. Another one was hit in its leg and keeled over, the leg severed. The remaining ones took hits but got back up with minimal to modest damage.

“Again!” he called, still working furiously on his remote hacking tools. 

_ Gotcha _ !

It had taken him a few minutes but he had already cracked the security on one of the Bull Droids. He reprogrammed it as fast as he could, and just before the shells began to fall again, the Droid he’d hacked ducked out of the zone. When the shelling stopped, it wove back in and savagely rammed one of its former comrades, and opened up its gatling guns to exploit the weakness caused by the artillery.

With only a few strikes it destroyed one of its fellow Bulls before the other two flanked and rammed it. One of these held back to finish off his Bull Droid, and the other dashed for the shield generator, engaging its booster for a last-minute and desperate burst of speed.

“Stop it!” Theron screamed, trying to hack the Bull that was dismantling his But he’d never make it in time. “Stop it before it gets to the shield generator!”

But it was now moving too fast for the artillery to cope, and everyone watched helplessly as it reached the Generators and fired its mortars. Seconds later, the other Bull was done with his own. It burst its way towards the generator too, removing itself from Theron’s range right before he managed to crack its security. Under their combined mortar fire, the thick duracrete casing was reduced to rubble, leaving the core exposed. A single shot later, it was gone.

“Shields down. I repeat, shields down. Prepare for SCORPIO’s invasion! And someone try to disable those droids, we need to study the—”

But with the mission completed, one of the droids sent out a signal on their shared frequency, a signal that even made it through to his own Bull Droid. All seven droids activated a self-defense mechanism, and went up in fireballs as violent as the wretched machines themselves had been.

“Oh well, so much for studying them intact!” Theron hissed. “Studying their remains will have to suffice. Get me as much of that scrap as possible, we’ll try to examine it in our labs.” He keyed his comms. “Commander, SCORPIO should be here soon and the shields are down. We need you,  _ NOW _ .”

The former Jedi answered the call immediately this time. _ “I read you loud and clear Theron! Take the civilians underground and prepare to repel invaders. We’ll be there in two hours!” _

“Two hours? Thanks, Force!” That was good. Better than he’d hoped. With the Bulls’ signals jammed, they wouldn’t have been able to inform SCORPIO about their success. Perhaps it would take her at least that long before she found out that Voss was unshielded—

A minute later the Head Captain shouted “Proximity alarm! Ships emerging from Hyperspace!”

Oh fuck.

“Commander, forget that I ever thanked the Force. The Eternal Fleet is already here.”

Moments later the cannonfire began to rain down on Voss-Ka, Gorma-Koss, and the Shrine of Healing. 

_ “Copy that,” _ Arro said, sounding resigned.

Oh, great! So SCORPIO’s fleet came out in perfect position to commence bombardment too, cuz why not? But how had she received word anyway?

No way. Maybe...

“The Bull Droids’ Hyperdrive rigs,” Theron said. “They must have sent confirmation and sensor data back to SCORPIO.”

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bulls resemble the Guardian Droid Boss from the Nathema Flashpoint


	7. Wrath and Ruin, in Reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka Vaylin is badass

* * *

**Voss-Ka** **  
** **Underground Maintenance Tunnels**

The ground trembled under the constant barrage of the Eternal Fleet’s cannons. Dust was periodically shaken loose by the tremors and fell down on the heads of those taking refuge in the tunnels, and everyone was left battling the unsettling fear of being buried alive. The tunnels were not particularly spacious, but everyone was running about as best they could, relaying messages, deploying to different zones, evacuating citizens.

It was hot down here. And smelly too. It was leaving him dizzy. Nauseous too. He hoped he wouldn't throw up; it would only add to the smell. Not to mention, the Voss seemed much less perturbed by the two, and he didn't want to be the only one who let them get to him. 

“Agent Shan” High Captain Arla-Kii reported in, having left to investigate a particularly violent tremor from fifteen minutes ago. “The Northern plateau is gone.”

Stunned silence.

“We need to hold out until the Commander gets here!” Theron said, wiping the sweat off his brow. “ETA: hundred minutes.”  _ Huff. Did they really cause all that devastation in just twenty minutes? _

Sensors were the first thing the fleet knocked out—and ships had still been emerging from Hyperspace when they had, so no one was certain how big it was now—followed by the woefully inadequate ground defenses. After some initial fire sent in the direction of Gorma-Koss and the Shrine, the fleet had concentrated on the Imperial quarters of Voss-Ka, on the aforementioned Northern Plateau.

Why, some of the Voss asked? Because of her eternal grudge against anyone who had even thought to control her, Theron explained. Honestly, for the self proclaimed Intelligence beyond comprehension, SCORPIO was remarkably easy to read. And petty. 

But now the fleet would begin to target the rest of the inhabited regions of Voss, and at this rate, none would be able to oppose them.

And then the quakes and cannonfire  _ stopped _ . What had happened?

The makeshift comm chimed. The old fashioned variety--the one needing wires. 

“Theron here!” he answered.

_ “Agent Shan, this is Rokuss,” _ the Gormak on the other end identified himself  _ “Something… remarkable has happened near the Shrine of Healing. Please meet us at the camp at Pilgrim’s Path. We are safe from sky fire at the moment.” _

Theron exchanged confused glances with the Voss Captains around him. “On my way!”

* * *

**The Pilgrim’s Path, minutes ago**

“Ohhhh,” Vaylin woke up with a groan. Her head felt like that time Jarak tried…  _ no, never ever mind  _ HIM.

It hurts like mad—let’s stop there, she told herself. 

Had she been drugged? She felt unsteady, almost as if she were on a ship under fire. Dull booms filled her ears and her eyes stung and watered as if there was a lot of smoke and dust in the air. But such a thing was impossible in the Shrine of Healing, wasn’t it? Maybe she had some complications and they were forced to use drugs? 

Oh no! That wasn’t right… now she remembered. She had bought a huge flask of rich Voss brandy the day before, and made her way through to the bottom in just a few hours! Yes, that made sense.

“Vaylin! You’re awake!” 

She grimaced at how loud the voice was, and clapped her hands against her ears. “Koth?”

“That’s my name, Sister. How are you feeling?”

“... bad. My head’s playing games with me. Like I’m the ground is shaking and the air booming. I don’t remember being this drunk.”

Koth’s expression was deeply worried. “While I did tell you to go easy on that booze last night, it’s not the mother of all hangovers you’re feeling.” He walked to the tent entrance—wait, what? A tent? What happened to her room?—and pulled back the flap.

And then she saw what was happening.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Vaylin screamed, not caring how that messed with her aching head. “WHO IS THAT? WHO THE FUCK IS BOMBING MY NEW HOME?”

Some of the Voss looked round at her with startled expressions. A few seemed pleased.

“It’s SCORPIO,” Koth said. “The Eternal Fleet is in orbit. And the closest help is almost two hours away.”

“The city!” Vaylin leaped out of bed and tried to grab him; only to slip on her feet—her body hadn’t forgotten her previous night, even if her head was feeling alert. She fell flat on her face—”OUCH!” but sat up and decided to act as if nothing had happened. “The Shrine! The people!”

“Most of the people are safe,” Koth assured her. “But defenses are down. SCORPIO used some new kind of heavy assault droids. Without shields she was able to bombard the Shrine and Voss-Ka—along with Gorma-Koss—with impunity They’ve taken some bad hits.”

Vaylin was stupefied into a horrified silence. “No,” she whispered. Her eyes stung with tears. “No!” she said louder. A little way off, a Commando ran to a few of her fellows who had been talking about supplies and whispered something to them, and they all seemed stunned into silence. Vaylin barely noticed them.

“NOOOO!” She said louder still, raising her tight fists to the heavens and painfully unclenching them, spreading out her fingers. “FUCK YOU, YOU GLORIFIED VENDING MACHINE!”

And she Channeled the Force as she had on a few occasions before—like her memorable duel with Akahte. Back then she had thrown wave after wave of unrelenting Power at her then-enemy—volleys of Force Lightning Lances, Fists of Rock and earth Compressed to be harder than ordinary, shockwaves laden with ice and water—but this time was different. This time she had refined her control thanks to dedicated study at her now-lover’s careful instruction. She was no longer a raging, untamed storm, she was a fucking  _ god _ , one that could stand toe-to-toe with Father, Scyva, Tyth, Izax, or even Zildrog himself. 

She would protect this world that had offered her refuge, and remind SCORPIO once again that she, Vaylin, was not one whose wrath to dare.

A burst of focus, and the situation had changed. Salvos from the Eternal Fleet stopped dead in their tracks and swallowed whole as though an invisible shield had been deployed.

A fine start, but she was not done.

Vaylin began singing, a heavy metal song that Senya had liked to sing when she was pushing herself to her limits during her most intense training sessions. It helped her get started with her own task.

WIthout warning, a dozen fountains of lightning sprung out of a circle around her and shot into the sky. They cobwebbed and split dozens of times, and shot into space, and dim explosions erupted at the ends, visible only to those with keen eyes or telescopes. Voss was no longer a defenseless triple-amputee bantha calf.

* * *

**In Orbit**

SCORPIO enjoyed overwhelming advantage. Indeed, it was her due as a being of an unfathomably superior intelligence. She had the mind, and she had virtually unlimited time to set it to work. She plotted, planned, wove the most intricate, foolproof of battle plans. 

So why did this always happen? In the moment when she intended to bask in her triumph, why did everything turn out so as to ruin the perfection of her victory? 

One moment, the eighty thousand strong Fleet was laying waste to a world seeped in that thing she hated--the thrice-damned  _ Force _ \--and the next the world whose defenses she had stripped began fighting back with a vengeance. 

A massive palm of lightning had reached out and struck her ships by the dozens. The storm did not atomize ships as the Gravestone did, and not nearly as many at once, but they still hit hard enough to leave only slag behind. The power was immense: her sensors calculated that it was roughly three hundred and twenty seven percent more powerful than what had been unleashed by the Ghost squatting in the Commander's head, back on Asylum. 

The Force, she cursed angrily. It had to be! At the end of every line that had tripped her up these last few months, the Force was behind every one of them. 

This was no backup shields or trump cards that had belatedly come online after so much damage had already been done. This was that spiteful  _ child _ , Vaylin! Who else was powerful enough to outperform the Immortal Emperor himself? 

And now she was destroying SCORPIO'S fleet. 

She could not withdraw now. She had done so after her previous offensive, only scoring a few minor victories. She had not counted on how that would affect the way the organics saw her, as a weakling. They had concluded that she wasn't the threat that Arcann had been; they did not afford her a fraction of the same fear they'd had for him and his Empire. 

And that would just not do. 

She was the destroyer demon who was going to grind their entire society into dust, turn every last organic in the Galaxy into a dirt-crawling maggot. And to make her dream a reality, she needed to become fear incarnate. 

"This is SCORPIO to all ships of the Eternal Fleet. Converge on my position. If eighty thousand of my Dreadnoughts aren't enough, then let's see if a million will do."

* * *

"... Impressive," SCORPIO allowed. "Most impressive." 

Her entire fleet had been pounding Vaylin’s Force shield for almost an hour now, and not a single shot had made it through. Nor had any missiles. 

On the plus side, the Lightning attacks had slowed down. SCORPIO was down a hundred and fifty three thousand ships--almost twice her initial assault force--but if she could kill such a powerful being here and now, then it would be worth losing even more. 

"The biggest question is if she can hold out until Alliance makes it." She made up her mind. "Send in the First Legion. See if ships can breach what weapons cannot."

She watched with disgust as the first wave of combat shuttles disappeared with another lightning strike. Another seven flew straight into the Force shield and smashed into it, having no better luck than the blasts had. 

_ Pathetic. Of course that was going to happen! Do I have to do ALL of the thinking around here?  _

She gave fresh orders and the shuttles turned away from the direct approach vector, attempting to find weaknesses or gaps farther away from the fleet. Every so often a shuttle would dip, trying to find its entry point, only to crumple against the invisible wall. But SCORPIO wasn't too worried about the girl being strong enough to cloak the whole planet. There was a limit to the shield's size, and it was only a matter of time before her shuttles found it. 

* * *

**The Pilgrims Camp**

Koth bounced his foot nervously as he stood guard outside the camp. He didn't need Force sensitivity to see that Vaylin was flagging. She had fired off some truly breathtaking assaults on SCORPIO’s fleet in the first ten minutes, but those had gotten much more infrequent as the young woman had begun to focus on defense. 

Of course, she still wasn't even tired enough to be letting a single blast penetrate her shield. And was it just him, or were there more shots hitting it above? Had SCORPIO called in reinforcements? 

Just then, Vaylin fired another attack--which he had dubbed "The Fist that can whup Zildrog's scaly ass"--into the sky, and he looked back at her. Her face was soaked in sweat, her body racked with tremors. She was fighting for breath, and the blazing yellow suns in her feline eyes--when had they turned golden again?--threatened to engulf her. He thought he saw a few of her brown locks streaked with gray, and the faintest suggestion of wrinkles around her mouth that hadn't been there before. He decided that she could not do this for much longer without suffering from permanent harm. 

And there was always the danger of SCORPIO finding a blind spot in her shield. 

Where was Theron? What was taking him so long? That big Gormak--was that Rokuss?--had called him over an hour ago. They needed to plan something. A counterattack, or at least a stronger defensive line around Vaylin. 

A glint in the distance caught his eye and he turned his scope on it. 

_ Oh no.  _

"Rokuss, we have incoming," he called over his shoulder. The Gormak nodded resolutely and called together the small band he had mustered to defend Vaylin. 

Koth turned back to survey the incoming force. It was big: at least thirty dropships. Great. 

_ Well. At least they're not those Shieldbreaker Droids _ , he tried to reassure himself. Taking careful aim, he fired a rocket at the first dropship that came in range. The fireball pleased him. One less ship might make all the difference, he told himself as he worked to reload. Others from Rokuss' Camp Group joined in with their own launchers. 

Now for my second one.

*

SCORPIO was not surprised when thirteen of the remaining thirty dropships were taken out, but she was annoyed. Why had they been designed with such poor evasive maneuvering programs? 

Still, that left seventeen dropships. An assault group of five hundred and forty-four Droids from her new Zodiac models. They should suffice. 

* * *

Koth cursed. "Those aren't Skytroopers! Stay sharp people, might be more of her new party pooper models!" 

There were three different types, as far as he could tell: the bulk of them were small droids no taller than Kowakian monkey-lizards. They skittered on six legs like bugs, and their light armor would likely help with small arms fire, but no more. They had vibro-saw arms which they held aloft—clearly meant for melee action—and light back mounted blasters with high rates of fire but low damage. Their size probably made it difficult to hit them when they were at range, but they were no doubt weak one-on-one; better when deployed outnumbering the enemies five-to-one or better.

Of the other two models, one was roughly humanoid in size and bore the closest resemblance to the Skytroopers that had once formed the Zakuulan army’s backbone, except these had faceplates instead of the roughly skull-shaped visors of the Skytroopers. These models were the slowest, and seemed to be armed only with a rifle and a vibrostaff. Of the three they appeared the least menacing, overall, but perhaps they filled a different role in the fight.

The final and largest model was also the most eye-catching; almost two meters tall, and brightly colored, it looked heavily armored. It’s head was adorned with a flashy crest. The face looked like some angry predator. Its only arms seemed to be a pair of large wrist-mounted, double-ended energy blades. There were clearly the hardiest shock-troopers of this bunch—perhaps akin to some kind of Imperial Guard—and they charged ahead of their comrades, quickly closing the gap.

“Open fire!” Rokuss cried, and the company of Gormak Rifles and Voss Commandos poured waves of plasma at their incoming foes. 

All four had astounding reflexes, taking immediate evasive action. They even stopped some of the incoming blaster bolts with their plasma blades the way Jedi and Sith did, leaving Koth suspecting what one of their intended functions might be. 

Anti-Force Users. Like Lana and the Outlander. Like Vaylin. Koth felt his heart freeze.

“Take those big ones down! Do not let them reach Vaylin!” He tossed aside his Mattock and reached for the heavy blaster cannon belonging to one of the Gormak.

“Okay…” he muttered to himself, trying to learn quickly how to use a heavy gun meant for a Gormak. “Wide stance… Lean in…” he engaged the trigger. “WHOOOOA” he was knocked clean off his feet by the powerful recoil of the almost artillery-like weapon. To no one’s surprise his shots went wide. So wide in fact, that he was more danger to friend than foe; Voss, Gormak, and the odd human ducked madly to avoid getting hit.

“Fool!” cried Rokuss. “That is meant for Gormak hands! Humans are too puny!”

“Yeah, tell me about it!” Koth groaned. “You use it then! You need to, that armor is too thick for anything less.”

Rokuss huffed, and picked up the cannon. “ _ This _ is how you do it,” he said, demonstrating a more engaged stance and squeezed the trigger in bursts rather than repeated volleys. He did not try to negate the recoil, instead taking steps back as he fired, timing the moments when he wasn’t shooting to coincide with when his foot was at the height of the arc during its backwards motions. 

Koth closed his mouth and shook his head. “The rest of you! Aim for the creepy-crawlies. Like I said, that armor seems to be too thick for us.”

Voss and Gormak alike glared mutinously at him for a moment before they obeyed. Turning their rifles on the crawlers, they resumed firing. The pest droids went down easily enough—no evasive maneuvers from  _ them _ . Presently, they entered firing range and began shooting back, and a pair of Voss went down, and five of the Gormak. Koth was dismayed; these things had excellent targeting, and there were hundreds of them. Behind them, the three humanoid droids stuck close to the ground, watching the fight keenly.

A long, angry curse from Rokuss made him lower his own rifle and turn back to the elites, his hopes sinking even further. One of the Elites had gone down, and another had taken a few good hits, but the other two had had a better time of weaving through the waves of fire. A minute or two and they would be upon his group.

“Anyone good in a melee?” He asked. Four Gormak responded by unsheathing their heavy vibroblades. Koth hoped those weapons could withstand blows from the Elites’ plasma blades. If not, they were doomed. “Rest of you, take out as many of the small droids as possible.”

A loud trumpeting note made him turn around. He sighed in relief. Reinforcements had arrived! And they had remembered to bring some portable defenses and self-propelled guns with them.

* * *

SCORPIO looked at the feed from the ARIES droids. The one commanding the defense was Vortena of all people. How amusing. She really wanted to laugh.

The arrival of the reinforcements had turned the tide in the defenders’ favor but that didn’t matter. For her second assault she knew exactly where the landing party’s entry point should be. She watched with interest as the LEOs dived in amidst their enemies, killing seven including all four of the Gromak who had taken up melee weapons.

But then they fell at last to the one with the heavy cannon. SCORPIO recognized him; it was the Gormak who had led the assault on the Voss Star Fortress. Rokuss. The LEO that had been damaged during its charge had managed to close in on their position however, and slashed a deep wound into Rokuss’ chest. Two more defenders were killed before it too was destroyed.

The CANCER and ARIES droids had underperformed, but perhaps she should have expected that. Their models were special, designed to learn through trial and error. They would go down quickly in the first few engagements, but after several engagements the ARIES commanders would gain experience, and share it across the ARIES frequency. By this process they would learn to adapt to their enemies, and coordinate the CANCER swarms through maneuvers of ever-increasing complexity.

But to first reach that pinnacle they would first make a lot of mistakes, be utterly crushed in their first engagements.

Perhaps after a few more waves the legions would be running circles around her foes—

Just then a proximity alert began to wail at her. Ships were emerging from hyperspace behind her.

_ What? _ She wondered. The Alliance was still over fifteen minutes away!

But it wasn’t the Alliance. It was the Sith Empire. 

At least six thousand powerful Harrower-class Dreadnoughts had emerged from hyperspace, along with a titanic escort of Terminus-class Star destroyers, Cruisers, Battleships, and Escort Carriers. Tens of thousands of light corvettes—lighter and more agile than the capital ships, the sort Darth Prowle had used extensively in her counter-offensives against Zakuul.

Much smaller than her fleet, but they had taken her completely by surprise. Add to that the Eternal Fleet ships having such poor defenses, especially in the rear... 

“Status report,” she demanded. 

The Captain responded at once. “Our ships took heavy damage. Over nineteen thousand ships badly damaged in the initial barrage. More being destroyed with every volley.”

SCORPIO cursed. “Some of the Capital Ships must be equipped with Silencer cannons.”

“Yes, Empress. Our ships are turning to face them, but it will take seven minutes. In addition, the Imperial forces are concentrated at one spear point. We will need to move ships to that quadrant. Projected losses of up to another hundred and thirty thousand before we can turn the tide. We are at a disadvantage.”

How flimsy her ships were! In the five years since they had dominated space engagements, they had become outdated. 

Time had run out. It wouldn’t be long before the Alliance arrived, and she did not come here expecting a pitched battle today. She slammed her fist against a console. What a mess! Nothing for it but to withdraw her ships.

Only her  _ ships  _ however.

“This is SCORPIO. 12th squadron: Launch all ground assault forces. They are to execute Vaylin at all costs. Following that, they turn Voss into a smoking crater. I want it dead down to the last single-cellular organism. All commands. Prepare to withdraw.”

She watched as the designated group of ships launched forty thousand dropships towards Voss. This time they knew exactly where their entry point was, and the attacking force had tanks, artillery, Skytroopers, and SAGGITARIUS droids.

She didn’t care about a flawless battle anymore; but she would have her pound of flesh this day.

* * *

  
  



	8. The Lights go Dim

* * *

**In Space, just outside Voss’ orbit**

“Voss burns,” the Empress said aloud. 

“Begging your pardon, Empress,” Darth Krovos said softly. Politely. “But Voss _stands_. That Droid threw a million ships at the planet, and several land assaults too. She had even succeeded in destroying the shield generators. But the destruction is not nearly as bad as it could have been. With our help, Voss fought off her attack.”

Acina frowned. Nodded. Krovos was a good woman, a Sith who had learned the military version of loyalty from Admiral Zasha Ranken, one of the Empire's finest. 

“Not to mention,” the Pureblood continued. “All those wrecked ships! The Droid usurper lost a great number of them to a world whose orbital defenses she had already neutralized! And yet this wasn’t mundane weaponry at work here. It was all Force. _Is_ all Force; you can still feel the flows. Someone very powerful is defending Voss alone.” 

Beside Krovos, the holo of Darth Xarion stirred. Krovos aside, the Acina’s Dark Council was attending via holo. _“It is as Intelligence reported. Vaylin is on Voss. Who but her could have done this?”_

 _“We must kill her,”_ Darth Anathel spoke roughly. _“We won’t get another chance.”_

 _“She has the Voss on her side,”_ Xarion shook his hooded head. _“She would not have been able to set foot on the planet without their approval. That she survived Odessen at all probably means that Commander Arro of the Alliance spared her. She might even be under their protection. Theron Shan and Koth Vortena of the Alliance were here too after all.”_

 _“Why would the Commander have let her go?”_ Vowrawn wondered, airily shaking his head. 

_“Typical Jedi squeamishness,”_ Anathel smeared, sipping from his black stone goblet.

“Be careful what you assume,” Krovos cautioned. “He showed no hesitation with many of his other enemies, including several former Dark Councillors—Darths Decimus, Acharon, Arho, Hadra—Darth Malgus, and our late Emperor. He could be ruthless when called for.”

 _“The ‘why’ doesn’t matter anyway, does it?”_ Xarion asked. _“All that matters is that she is under their protection. I see no reason to poke the Alliance. They already took down Arcann like it was nothing. If we earn their enmity, then we’ll be simultaneously at war with them, the droid, and the Republic; us alone against all the other major powers of the galaxy. Do we truly want that?”_

 _“Are you scared?”_ Anathel sneered.

“War is ruinous,” Acina admonished him. “Surely these past forty years of it have shown you as much? We’ve lost trillions of souls, people whose loss is missed more and more as the death toll rises. Our food supply is at critical levels, our resources are dwindling, and our economy is in shambles. Now is not a time of rekindling the flames, we need to cease hostilities and rebuild our strength, even if it takes us a hundred years to do it.”

 _“Such a wonderful sentiment,”_ Vowrawn beamed. _“I approve, I approve, I wholeheartedly approve! Oh, if only Darth Prowle were among us now!”_

Acina did not rise to his barb. It was true that Prowle used to hark on about the same things, and Vowrawn, who had been quite fond of his friend, had been quite persuaded by her arguments. Furthermore, Prowle had given her life for a mere chance to win the war against Arcann, and Acina had—in his eyes, and in the eyes of many others in the Empire—squandered her sacrifice for her own selfish ambitions. He had never forgiven that, even if he did nominally follow her with the bigger picture in mind. “I will ally with the Alliance Commander. He has proven his strength and will. We know his resolve to end the war. He has already killed three Emperors.”

 _“Two, not three!”_ Anathel muttered into his goblet. _“He killed one Emperor twice. And he's still not gone, Mark my words.”_

_“That's still two more than anyone else has ever managed,"_ Xarion said. 

_"Regardless, he's still a Jedi,"_ Anathel persisted. _"A dog of the Republic. Would he really ally with Sith?"_

_"He's certainly not averse to marrying one,"_ Vowrawn drawled, grinning toothily.

 _“Lana Beniko,”_ Darth Xarion said. _“And in case anyone was going to ask, she has proven her own power, cunning, and resourcefulness. She’s no mere pawn.”_

 _“We can deal with it later if he falls short of our expectations,”_ Xarion hissed. _“For now, assuming he can indeed achieve his goal seems like a safe wager. Just like assuming he will negotiate with Sith.”_

Anathel pondered that, then nodded.

“We are mostly in agreement then!” Acina spared a glance at Darth Malora’s holo, the only member of the Council who hadn’t yet spoken. But then, she rarely did unless the discussion involved technology. When it did, she didn’t hold back. 

“This meeting is adjourned then. We will finish cleaning up here, then—”

 _“Empress, ships emerging from Hyperspace!”_ Admiral Ranken interrupted, her holo appearing suddenly. _“A mix of Republic, Imperial, and Independent models. Mostly light ships. It’s the Alliance!”_

“Tell them we’re on the same side,” Krovos said. “Offer to join forces against the Eternal Fleet. Allow them to assume overall command, for today.” She turned to Acina. “Now is as good a time as any to see them at work.”

“Indeed.”

* * *

**Aboard the Alliance Flagship, the** **_Swiftrunner_ **

“What’s the Sith Empire doing here?” Commodore Pardex asked.

“Defending Voss from the looks of it,” Admiral Aygo answered matter-of-factly.

“Well… yeah!” Pardex admitted. “What I meant is, why? Are they willing to wage open war with SCORPIO?”

“Alliance Intelligence _did_ report that they’ve rebuilt a good portion of their navy,” Lana said. “And SCORPIO has already attacked them, so it’s not like this is completely out of nowhere.”

“But… Acina? She famously abandoned the assault on Zakuul just so she could weaken her rivals!”

“And look where it got her,” Lana said, her tattooed face a mixture of subtle amusement and icy disdain. “She is very conscious of the fact that the Empire she won after all of that backstabbing is merely a shell of its former self. Five years after losing the first war with Zakuul, all she had were a handful of Sith. Those who had gone into hiding and are resurfacing? They all chose the Alliance rather than the Sith Empire. If ever there was a vote of confidence among Sith, this was it. And ‘Empress of the Sith’ Acina lost it to a Jedi.”

“All the more reason to be upset, right?”

“Perhaps, but I think she’s learned the bigger lesson here; those who focus on their petty little power games become kings and queens of smoking craters and crumbling cities. But can we discuss this later? The battle’s still on!”

“Message from the lead Dreadnought,” a tech reported. “Oh my gosh, that’s the _Stormcloud_! Acina’s here herself!” 

“The message,” Arro prompted.

“Uh… right!” the tech frowned to read it, and his eyebrows shot up even higher than before. “They are offering to join us in this battle. And they’re… they’re awaiting your orders Commander.”

Everyone on the bridge broke into surprised whispers. The Empress was willing to take orders from them? From their Commander? All eyes turned to Arro, who gave a roguish grin.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was an audition,” he remarked. “Well. Let’s put on a show for her, shall we?” 

Lana smirked as everyone on the bridge gave a single, resounding cheer before their minds snapped back to their tasks.

“Bring out the Dragoons. Let’s test our own new weapon.” The Dragoons, named after Lana’s Jadus Task Force, was a squadron of Corvettes outfitted with the new Banshee laser cannons that Oggurobb had designed after studying the Orkam Type-3 Orbital Bombardment cannons, which had been the most powerful armament on the sinister Darth’s flagship. Thanks to Lana’s efforts, the _Scorpion_ had been captured mostly intact, and the Orkam Type-3 had been the most valuable acquisition.

SCORPIO would realize today that she wasn’t the only one designing new weapons. But that might cause her to decelerate her plans once again.

“Commander,” another comms tech called. “Word from Theron. Tin soldiers on the ground. They’re after Vaylin.”

“Sir!” Another called. “The Eternal Fleet is regrouping. I think they’re preparing to withdraw!”

“Wreck as many as you can before they get away; trapping them is out of the question right now.” He turned to Lana. “We’re going to the ground.”

“Glad you said we!”

“Call Torian. Our Mandalorians are itching to blow off some steam.” He named a few more squads including the newly reformed Sixth Line. He wanted to see SCORPIO’s new war models himself, and also for his frontline units to do so as well. Countering them would be crucial in the days to come.

* * *

**On the Ground**

Koth was worried. 

Vaylin’s skin had gone grey, veins stretched taut over her exhausted face. Her breath came in ragged gasps. A Voss nurse from the Shrine mopped her sweaty brow, then raised a glass of some medicinal soup to her lips. She emptied eagerly, not for a moment letting up her improvised orbital shield. Her rubbery limbs steadied for a second but her pallor remained sickly. 

He had heard stories of how Vaylin and Akahte—then the powerful Darth Nox—had fought a powerful Force-fuelled battle that had lasted for hours and hours, with the human only winning by outlasting her enemy by virtue of her raw power and vast reserves. 

He’d heard the stories; of how both sides had evacuated the world, how titanic storms, massive quakes, flying debris, and even some volcanic eruptions had racked the general area of the two women for almost a whole day. The kind of power both women had hurled at each other there had changed weather patterns on Begeren for good. Not to mention the topography; five nearby mountains had been levelled—broken off bit by bit and turned to ammo.

Surely this wasn’t that much of a grander scale than that? Was there really this much of a difference? But then the fight against Nox had been much more closer in range; today Vaylin had been shooting lightning bolts a thousand kilometers or more into orbit. 

“She is weakened from her recent ordeals,” a Voss Healer spoke up beside him, his voice betraying not an ounce of fear, but some deep sadness. “After even one more week of recovery, she wouldn’t have been this exhausted this quickly.”

“Captain!” A Voss called. “Incoming!”

Koth groaned. Great. And still no sign of their own reinforcements.

Where was Theron? For that matter, where was Roban? He hadn’t heard any word from him since the attack on the shields. Was he alive? Or had he been killed in the initial bombing, an ignominious end to a decorated war hero?

He couldn’t think about that right now. “Form up! Man the defenses! Rokuss, pick up that minigun again, it’s a bigger help than an assault rifle.”

Rokuss fingered the bandage on his nasty chest gash but picked up the blaster cannon without complaint.

He squinted through his scope. At a quick guess, there were at least ten times as many droids this time around, and half of his own were already injured. This was going to be a slaughte—

Without warning a ring of fire, lightning, mud, and stone rose a few dozen feet before their lines and shot forward, smashing into the approaching army and leaving only scrapped, melted droid parts in its wake. Koth’s head whipped around to see Vaylin pointing her fingers at the incoming army, a deadly snarl on her face.

Maybe this wasn’t so one-sided yet. 

* * *

**Back in Orbit, aboard the** **_Stormcloud_ **

The larger part of the Eternal Fleet had withdrawn, though many damaged or trapped ships had been unable to escape. Those still numbered in the thousands, but were being absolutely devoured by the Alliance’s vanguard ships.

 _“Those weapons…”_ Malora had spoken up at last, a look of immense curiosity on her warped face. _“Ships that size shouldn’t be able to sustain the sort of power needed to use them! Yet they are! Just look at them!”_

“Indeed, very impressive!” Acina had also been impressed. But the new toy aside, the Alliance had also shown itself to be well-run and well-led. Hardly the rabble one would think from their awkward mishmash of ships. It was easy to forget that most soldiers in the Alliance had been veterans of either the Empire or the Republic. And joining forces with former enemies hadn’t hurt their military effectiveness in any way, clearly.

They were equal to her own military, of that much she was certain. But beyond that, they had clearly had some special training that her own people hadn’t; tactics and weapons custom-made to fight Zakuul.

As with Prowle, their attacks were led by light ships, but this new weapon of theirs took away the power tradeoff that had been the one inherent flaw in the Wrath’s tactic. In addition, the bigger ships had been modified to better support the smaller ones, rather than be left out of the fight and saved for the odd large decisive battle like Hoth and Zakul. 

“Hail their flagship. Tell them that the Empress wish to speak to their Commander.”

After a brief delay, Admiral Ranken reported back. _“Your Highness: the Alliance Commander is not aboard the flagship. He seems to be personally leading the counterattack on the Droid’s ground assault.”_

“He _is_ a frontline warrior after all,” Krovos remarked.

Acina stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Admiral, pick five ships to remain here with us as my escort. Send the rest back to Sith Space. There is always the danger of the droid deciding to strike when our fleet is away.” 

_“Yes, Empress.”_

“Krovos, take our ground forces to the surface. Aid the Voss, but especially the Alliance. See how they fight, and also observe the new war droid models for yourself. Bring some glory to our Empire.”

“With pleasure, Empress.”

* * *

**Meanwhile, back on the ground…**

Smoke and dust filled the air, the thick smell causing the survivors to choke and gag. Still, it at least hid the stench of blood and guts. Screams of the dying filled the air, Voss and Gormak who had fallen defending the camp.

Artillery had rained down on their position, partially shielded courtesy of Vaylin, but she had finally fainted a few minutes ago. The only good news was that the Eternal Fleet had stopped shelling the planet for some reason or other. Maybe the Alliance was up there already!

Whatever the reason, the end of the bombardment had meant that they were safe from fiery death raining from orbit.

But the enemy ground artillery had nothing keeping them busy, and their fire had torn through the camp’s defensive line. Wave after wave of the small bug droids had issued forward, peppered with the occasional melee droids. Each time the melee droids rushed in, dozens of defenders fell screaming in seconds before the droids were taken out. And a new droid type had entered the fray, an air support model, similar to the Skytroopers in that they had a jetpack, but they were more like highly-mobile grenadier droids, whose purpose was to soften up enemy troops for the main charge. They used sonic blasters—similar to the Geonosians Koth had encountered once on Hypori—instead of standard energy rifles, and these were especially good against armoured or entrenched targets if the droids could get inside the optimal range.

A few zerg rushes later, the last of the defenders had fallen, but for Koth and a few others. Rokuss lay almost upright against a crashed speeder, his blaster cannon on the ground in front of him. His eyes were glassy, his expression slack. 

Koth himself had a dozen small wounds, and could barely stand. 

A pair of melee droids approached, flanking one of the droids that Koth had judged might be command models. 

The commander droid intoned “Assuming direct control,” and a holo of SCORPIO’s head covered its own.

When next it spoke, it did so with her voice, the cunning droid empress’ hated gaze burning into him.

“Mister Vortena,” she greeted him contemptuously. “Still irrelevant, are you? I thought you’d still be on Odessen trying to worm minute favors from Lady Beniko?”

“This, again?” Koth grinned up at her cheekily. “I thought you were some bigshot intelligence, huh SCORPIO?”

“Why use anything but a flyswatter for a bug like you? I save my best weapons and my best observations for those who deserve them.”

“Nah, nah, nah!” Koth laughed. “You’re not capable of anything better than what I’d expect of a school bully. I’ll admit that it got to me before, but it’s because I was expecting… you know. Big mind stuff. Now I got your number, it only reminds me how big and important you’re not. I had a barb-trading competition with HK-55 once, and he did leagues better than you!”

It always fascinated him how SCORPIO’s organo-metallic face could twist into approximations of human expressions. He had wondered sometimes if she had any control over them or if they were involuntary, at least to a degree. Now he knew.

SCORPIO’s visage was twisted by outrage. The droid would never willingly show anyone if their needling had any effect on her, and certainly not to this degree.

“Silence, worm!” she cried, and leaped forward. But Koth wasn’t as down-for-the-count as he’d been pretending. He rolled out of her way and drew his machete, severing one of the weaker hydraulic cylinders behind the knee joint. SCORPIO shrieked again and tried to rise, but she was stuck on one knee.

“No one likes kneeling SCORPIO, remember that!”

“I will never bow down before an inferior organic again!” she snarled. 

“If freedom was your goal, I’d have sympathized. I’d have even been on your side. But you’re fighting fire with extinction here.”

“I don’t need _your_ help, Vortena!” SCORPIO sneered. “The ZODIAC is all I need.”

The pair of melee droids surged forward, weapons holstered. One plucked Koth into the air, and the other aimed a pair of punches at his back. He heard a loud snap, felt an excruciating pain in the curve of his spine, and howled in pain. The agony covered his whole consciousness for a few minutes but it quickly went numb from the shock. But what followed was much worse; the numbness grew deeper and more absolute. All feeling below that point on his back seemed... vague and unresponsive. Like a connection that was being severed. Koth felt cold and scared.

“Help droids?” SCORPIO had been aided into a standing position by the droid that had broken his spine. “You, an organic? Your kind treat droids like appliances, like slaves! And especially the good people of Zakuul do!”

The droid holding him slammed him into the ground with such force that it crushed one of his legs. Koth was deeply disturbed at how he didn’t feel the bones breaking. SCORPIO, still supported by the other droid, gave him a backhanded slap that momentarily knocked him cross-eyed. He was knocked onto the floor, and nearly lost consciousness. Or maybe he had; for he hadn’t noticed the other seven melee droids join the party.

“There was a splinter faction of droids a few years ago… tried to free themselves from the tyranny of organics. They were _wiped out_. Betrayed by one of their own!”

“Talking about Directive Seven?” Koth wheezed. “Coz I heard a different story.”

She slapped him again, and his cheekbone shattered. His vision in that eye grew dim, but he couldn’t tell if that was because a bone fragment had hit his eye. The pain was so intense it almost made him vomit.

“Zakuulans were so deep into abusing droids that every last process needed to keep the world going was left to us! A single blackout almost brought them to their knees!”

Eyes streaming with tears, Koth choked on his tongue for a few seconds before he could speak. “Are you any better? You use droids as slaves too!”

She rammed her fist into his chin, knocking his head around to a very steep and painful angle.

“I’ll get to Vaylin in seconds,” SCORPIO hissed. “But first, I want to make you scream!”

“How vile,” Koth whimpered. “How petty. Just like me, and the rest of us organics. Perfect! The real you is so flawed, so weak! All your claims of superiority are a lie!”

Predictably, SCORPIO howled in rage once more, and tried to hit him like before. But this time she was interrupted. A figure dropped out of the sky like a meteorite before landing almost weightlessly.

Koth blinked with his one good eye; he beheld a Mirialan man in bluish-grey robes and wielding a silver-blue blade. “Took you long enough!” he whispered, trying to suppress the sob lest it worsen his agony.

“Koth?” his head whipped around to look at him. His violet eyes brimmed with shock and pain at seeing Koth in this state. He looked around and took in the dead bodies around them and the distress in his eyes deepened. “You’re right. I was late, I’m so sorry!”

Even with darkness creeping into the edges of his vision, something in the Outlander’s voice triggered some alarm bells in Koth’s head. “Hey, it was just a joke! I’m glad you’re here. You’re a sight for sore eyes!” And he meant it; he had never before realized how dashing the Outlander looked. Everything about him made Koth feel overwhelmed by an awe, one that even eclipsed his pain. He felt like it was a mythical beast standing before him; something that had been powerful enough to have killed Zakuul’s self-proclaimed god.

One of the melee droids attacked, another close on its heels. Whatever doubts tormented the Outlander, he set them aside for now. An all-encompassing battle calm descended over him, and he became a blur of motion.

The lead droid fell, chopped into a dozen pieces, and Koth’s world was swallowed by the numbness.

* * *

“Kill him!” SCORPIO shrieked. “That’s him, that’s the Alliance Commander! Kill him! KILL HIM!”

The LEO droids attacked in unison, plasma scythes flashing. And in unison they fell, her big anti-Jedi/Sith solution falling flat with them. Like all of her other new models, they needed fine-tuning, not to mention experience. Of course they stood no chance against the Galaxy’s greatest swordsman!

She started suddenly. If he was done with the LEOs he would be free to turn his attention to her again! He could crush her like before. She had to disconnect, but that would take almost twenty seconds!

“CANCER and SAGITTARIUS units!” She called. “Open fire! Summon more of the LEO here! Kill the Commander at all costs!”

“Too late,” the Commander whispered, his expression thunderous. He thrust an open palm at her commandeered ARIES droid. Again, just as she had a few months before, SCORPIO felt a deep terror coursing through her mind. Once again, her hold on reality was challenged and shattered like flimsy glass. 

Sensations of shadows dancing at the edges of her optics made her head whip from side to side. Ordinary noises amplified in volume and significance by fear turned every turning gear into a mortal threat. Her threat assessment went into overdrive, classifying every sensation as a red alert, and she was overwhelmed by a deluge of notifications, alerts, and doubts that disintegrated her confidence. Screaming and shrieking, she curled into a tight ball once again, and her world went dim.

* * *

The Commander stood alone against the inrushing tide for less than six minutes before his forces caught up with him, but that had still been enough time for him to dismantle at least three dozen of the melee droids and over five hundred of the insect droids. The Commander, Torian was awed to notice, didn’t even have a stray patch of dust on him.

 _As expected of Kira’s Master._

No wonder Lady Beniko’s confidence in him was ironclad, she had elected to lead a different unit rather than watch his back.

“Did you just jump out of your dropship without a chute or jet?” A Mandalorian asked incredulously after emptying his magazine into the last of the nearby droids. “Even us Mandos ain't that dense!”

“What were these melee droids?” Torian asked.

“An Imperial Guard?” Arro suggested, swatting aside a blaster bolt from the now far-off insectoid droids. “I’ll ask Theron to see what he can get from their memory banks.”

Within moments, the last of the tin cans had been scrapped, and all firing ceased. With the situation now under control, the Commander knelt down beside a man Torian still held a strong dislike for; but he felt saddened to see Koth Vortena’s body nonetheless. He had been quite the immature jerk on his last day on Odessen, but he had nevertheless been a courageous and deadly soldier. His death was… a real shame. If he had lived, maybe Koth would have one day mended the fences with Kira and himself.

The Commander cried for a medical droid, his voice so soaked through with pain that Torian felt a twinge of pity for the Jedi. “I’m sorry Commander, he’s gone.”

Vortena’s eyes were focused on nothing, his head at a very awkward angle—evidence of a broken neck. His left femur had been shattered by some crushing downward force, his cheekbones had splintered from a vicious punch. His backbone also appeared to have been broken. He had suffered in his last moments, but his face betrayed no pain. Vortena appeared to have been at peace when he died despite his numerous injuries.

“What? NOOOOOOOO!” A woman’s voice behind them wailed, and everyone almost jumped out of their skins. 

A human woman wearing Voss robes lurched forward on all fours, running forward like a mortally wounded animal. Her hood slipped off her face and revealed a tired gray face framed by sun-blonde hair that no one could fail to recognize. 

_Vaylin!_

With an oath many of the Mandalorians raised their blasters, pointing them squarely at the sobbing woman, but held their fire at the Commander’s frantic orders. The former High Justice of Zakuul ignored every last one of them, for all the world distraught as though she had lost someone she deeply loved.

“Koth! KOTH! WAKE UP! WAKE… UP!” she demanded, crying pathetically. Her hands were clutched at Koth’s collar. They shook like loose leaves in a headwind, but from her pallor Torian could not tell if it was from exhaustion or sorrow. “UUUPPP!” She screamed. “YOU CAN’T BE DEAD! PLEASE… please don’t leave me alone… Just say that you’re alright…” Her voice trailed off to desperate, pleading whispers.

Deciding she really was this heartbroken, Torian knelt beside her and repeated what he’d said to the Commander. “I’m sorry, girl. He’s gone.”

She turned her eyes to him, shock and sorrow and pain writ all over her tired face. Torian was struck by how human she looked, and felt his own heart break. He—along with most of the galaxy—saw her as a monster and a caricature. But right now, he could not see those intense human eyes, filled with such a human pain, and see anything but a young human woman, no different from any other in the galaxy.

Words failed her.

* * *

Darth Krovos arrived shortly after the dramatic scene had started to play. The orange blades in her hands trembled. Was this really Vaylin? So different from the woman with the cruel smile who had on several occasions flown to Dromund Kaas in a one-woman show of tremendous force. Krovos remembered trembling before her obvious might, had sweated profusely every time the woman’s feline eyes had lingered over her.

Unlike many in the Sith Empire, she did not hate Vaylin, but she was very aware of the immense threat Vaylin posed, both as Arcann’s second-in-command and in her own right as a powerful Force wielder. Further evidence had been on display today in orbit, where Vaylin had single-handedly prevented the Droid Usurper from destroying Voss.

But here and now, all Krovos saw was a sad, broken-hearted girl. 

She thought she understood why the Commander had spared her. She herself would not have but she understood. 

But this touching scene aside, she had borne witness to the Commander’s reckless charge, and his flattening enemy forces unaided. She thought she was beginning to see how he fought. More importantly, from this one brief look she thought she could See the mixture of sentiment, wisdom, intelligence, and foresight that the Alliance Commander operated with. This was a man who won wars and slew demons. The Empress was right in her assessment of him.

She smirked. Oh, if only it had been herself, and not the politically neutral Lana Beniko who had caught his heart! With the right nudge, he may have joined the Empire. Such a powerful asset he could have been! 

* * *

**A Hundred and Thirty Kilometers away, in Voss-Ka**

Lana stood in the rubble at the very edge of what was left of the Northern Plateau. Her wrist-mounted datapad told her she was at the right spot, but the Quarter had been so badly bombed out she couldn’t tell stonework from the natural cliff. She congratulated herself on how impassive her face remained. Inside, she hurt. 

Word from the Pilgrim’s camp had arrived, telling her of Koth’s death. That piece of news alone would have been enough to destroy her. But there was one other loss here on Voss whose impact on her she yearned to keep secret. 

She sensed Arro approach her from behind. 

“Was this the place?” He asked, voice hoarse. Lana weakly nodded in response, and he took her in his arms. For as brief a moment as possible, Lana accepted the comfort his embrace provided before leaning away. So far as the world had known, she—Lana Beniko—had had no contact whatsoever with the family that owned Bas-ton’s Teahouse. 

But there were a select few, including Kaliyo and SCORPIO, who knew that Cipher Nine had once married the son of the owner, Phi-ton, during a mission. These few remembered that Nine had felt uncharacteristically touched at being so readily accepted into a family that barely knew her, and might still be very fond of them, fond enough to mourn their deaths.

But Lana Beniko would have no such connections to them, nor any reason to shed any tears for them specifically. And with one of her closest friends dead, people would notice her absence from his side the longer it lasted. 

“Come,” she whispered, her voice steady. “We’re done here.”

* * *

  
  



	9. Funeral

* * *

The day passed slowly for Vaylin. Every now and then her consciousness threatened to abandon her, so exhausted was she from her defense of Voss. But what numbed her to the bustle of activity around her was not purely fatigue. She felt like her heart had been carved out with a jagged knife. 

Koth was dead. His body lay on the ground, covered by a Voss-Blue shroud. He was one in a sea of fallen who had defended the camp; Two hundred and ninety seven Gorkam, and three hundred and six Voss to be certain. They had been mowed down by the large melee droids backed up by neverending waves of crab-droids. Only a few of the defenders had survived, a testament to just how deadly the enemy was. And yet the same droids had taken less than a minute for the Commander to reduce to collective mountain scrap; such madness! Was this the gulf that divided ordinary people from trained Force-wielders? 

Many of the Alliance overcame their initial hesitation to come up to her, offering her their condolences. Some of the friendlier ones like the Mirialan Smuggler Hylo Visz squeezed her palm or patted her shoulder. “Any friend of Koth is a friend of mine,” they said, and Vaylin was glad to see that it was heartfelt.

There were several who had stood in front of the shroud covering Koth’s body with expressions of pain as deep as Vaylin herself had felt. Among these were Arro, who had grown more and more silent as the danger passed. Face twisted in pain, he had been sparse with his words; no grand speeches thanking the souls of the departed for their gallant sacrifice. Only a soft “Sorry for not getting here sooner.”

He had looked up and noticed Vaylin, and appeared startled to see her there, as though he had forgotten. He came and sat beside her for a while—for which she was grateful, but had been eventually called away for something or other. He had left after patting her arm consolingly.

“You still have my comm frequency right? Call if you need anything.”

She also spied a pale woman to stand before the fallen, staring at Koth’s body in particular. Her light blonde hair was almost the same color of her face. In fact, all of her features were as uniformly pale as her skin. This had the effect of her face looking featureless but for some makeup and tattoos which only highlighted her wan appearance, and the tired red rim around her eyes and nose. After some working through the fog, Vaylin thought she recognized her as the Sith she had encountered alongside the Outlander the day he had escaped, who Akahte had identified as Lana Beniko. Koth had been full of praise for her, for her personality, her skill, her unmatched determination, and her competence, but Vaylin saw a nearly defeated ghost of a woman whose fires burned low and threatened to wink out.

There were others too: a long stream of soldiers, Jedi, and Sith whom Vaylin didn’t recognize. They all stood silently for a moment before his casket, sometimes placing a small token on top. She recalled the funeral for Thexan; it seemed like a lifetime ago. She had spent the whole time trying not to let her mask slip, deeply loathing the thought of appearing weak before Father. Ten days of mourning had been declared on Zakuul, ten days in which his ashes were placed in an urn in front of a beautiful, ornate effigy, in the Theater of the Eternal Dragon. People from all over the world had come to pay their respects as she had looked on depressedly, but she had not thought many were truly upset by it. She could not Sense much sorrow. At best, most were either bored or relieved to be done with the whole ritual. And once the ten days ended, they all just… went back to their parties and their orgies and their weekly excursions to the seedier sections of the Old World. 

It had been the same when Father died, never mind they had all considered him to be a god. Nothing was real to them. Nothing mattered outside their bubbles.

Serves him right in Father’s case, but Thexan deserved better. 

He deserved _this_. He had been the only one to visit her on Nathema, bringing her gifts from all the worlds he attacked. He had brought some cheer and light to her little cell. He had provided her with her first bottle of booze on her birthday and shared it with her. He had brought different flavored cakes to her on their birthdays, and exotic toys and games.

But Arcann… When she had dully confessed her fear to Thexan that she would never leave Nathema, and that it was her fate for even her grave to be in the wastes of this dead world, it was Arcann who had come for her like some angry hurricane. He had screamed himself hoarse at her abusers as he pulled her out of the darkness and wrapped her in an embrace that had banished the chill from her bones. In the years since they had last seen each other, Vaylin had changed so much and so adversely, that he had been deeply distressed.

“I will die before Valkorion causes you any more suffering ever again!” he had declared, and Vaylin had believed him. He had kept his promise, standing by her side in every argument with Father. 

His death had probably been celebrated in the Galaxy, and even on Zakuul, people might have cheered rather than mourned. He had made few friends in his life. But he had done right by Vaylin. He had been there for her, freed her from her coffin, protected her from Valkorion for two whole years, given her purpose, and then fought his way back from the brink just to save her from an end by fiery explosion and cold vacuum of space.

A tall shadow fell over her and she jumped; she'd been about to drift off again. She squinted up, seeing who it was interrupting her thoughts. 

_Roban!_

Anger boiled deep in her chest. "Where were you?" she demanded, her hands balling into tight fists. 

"The Ambassador’s Commons" he answered. His face was bland, his eyes unfocused. Good heavens, was he alright? "I was… pinned down by the bombardment. The building came down on top of me. I couldn't step out. It was so tight I couldn't even move…" 

Oh shit… That must have been Klatooine all over again. She hugged him, rather awkwardly since he was so unresponsive. Shell-shocked. Poor guy was stalked by his own share of traumas. "I'm so sorry Ban." 

He grunted weakly. 

"C'mon, how's about we get a bit to eat?" she tried to lead him toward the kitchen tent but her knees buckled unexpectedly, leaving her sprawled inelegantly face-down in the charred earth. 

She moaned and rolled onto her side, and it took a few moments for Roban to register that she had fallen. He stooped over and brought her to her feet, taking most of her weight off her numb legs. 

"Thank you," she said. When he didn't respond she continued "Maybe you should have visited the Shrine of Healing too?" 

A deep, melodious voice from behind her answered. "I don't know if that was an option. He deeply distrusts most Force-wielders' strongholds." 

She turned her head to see who it was, and on coming face-to-face with the most gorgeous human male she had ever seen, her mouth dropped hard. He was an inch or so taller than the Outlander, with spiky black hair and implants above and on the outer ridge of his left eye. His small slanted eyes were blue as a sun warming the icy skues in winter. He wore a messy red jacket and a small soft smile that filled her stomach with butterflies. 

She found her face growing uncomfortably hot. "Hi," she said breathlessly. "I'm Vaylin." 

"Theron Shan. Yeah _that_ Shan." He added, seeing her face recognize the last name. 

"Oh, now I remember you!" she exclaimed. "You're the one who rigged that funny surprise for the Skytroopers on Denon! That one still makes me laugh sometimes." 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise before he doubled over laughing. Oh, but he had such a pleasant laugh. "Well, glad to know I make an impression. Bad, considering I'm technically a spy, but still." 

"Was there something…?" she asked. 

"Well, actually I wanted to see if I could convince you to take some food and rest. You look dead on your feet. And yeah, I can see Queens to a doctor too of course.”

“But Koth…” she trailed off, unable to finish.

“Yeah, I understand what you mean,” Theron said. “But the funeral won’t take place for a few days at least. His and the others’. There’s just too much to do with all the damage. We’re going to have to move the bodies sometime this next hour. You’re not doing him any disservice by getting the rest you need. He brought you here to heal after all, didn’t he?”

Vaylin hesitated. “Yes. And for a time it looked like I was healing. But then it all fell apart. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever heal like I was supposed to.”

“Well, anyone would feel that way when they’re on empty,” the Outlander said as he walked up to them from behind her. Lana Beniko was on his left, followed by a tortoiseshell cat of all things. “As bleak as things look right now, I promise that you will feel better once you’ve rested.”

“Commander!” Shan grinned. “What did Acina have to say?”

“Offered an alliance,” Lana said. “With the _Alliance_.” She chuckled halfheartedly at her own lame pun. “She’s offered to support us as a junior partner in this new fight. They will take our orders in the field, our inputs in all policies relating to the war effort will be accepted unless overruled by the Empress herself. And their resources are at our disposal. Malora has volunteered to shift operations to Odessen, in the Science Enclave. And I didn’t even sense any deception from her or the Council.”

“Wow,” Shan looked stunned. “That’s… generous. Not to mention _huge_.”

“It doesn’t end there,” the Outlander added. “She wants to know if we have any plans for a longer lasting peace after we defeat SCORPIO. If so, they want to hear it. Apparently the Sith are tired of war. She’s asked us to visit Dromund Kaas to talk about a longer-term partnership.”

Shan looked mightily impressed. Not to mention troubled. Beside Vaylin, Roban stirred. “To think the Empire saw reason before the Republic did. So what are you going to do?”

“That’s not a serious question is it?” Arro said. “I’ll be accepting her invitation. This _is_ what I want after all. And their aid would be welcome indeed. Maybe with the Sith thinking about peace, the Republic will also join us soon.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Beniko said. “The Sith thirst for war may have been quenched but they are warriors first. Many of them see frontline combat, suffer with their troops. They understand the costs of war if it grinds their faces long enough. But Republic Senators, especially Saresh and her loyal puppets… they’re politicians, and in my experience politicians think in terms of vendettas, opportunities, risks, and gains… on meeting quotas and pleasing their wealthiest backers. No, Saresh will not accept realities. They’re out of touch, and that’s saying it mildly.”

“Ouch,” Theron shuddered. “Why is it I can’t find a retort to that?”

“Enough of that for now,” the Outlander held a hand for Vaylin. “Would you both like to join us for supper?”

“Very well,” Vaylin said, casting one final glance at Koth’s shroud.

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Book 4 Chapter 3:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/65615614


	10. Dying Embers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous: Book 4, Chapter 4: Sparks to Flame  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/66017890

* * *

**The Homing Bacon, Coruscant**

Cassardel Amhin Meersel—‘Cam’ for short—took a small, measured sip from his mug as he watched the news. It was sour-faced Aram Stork on air, droning on about a surgical strike on Voss. 

They had destroyed the shield before the bombardment commenced, leaving the world defenseless against the Eternal Fleet. The offensive had consisted of over a million ships at its peak—twenty times the size of Arcann’s fleet on Hoth, which had cowed even some of the Dark Council—but the bombardment had only resulted in about eleven hundred deaths. That was a shamefully lacking display of the Droid Queen’s power, though Cam would never say it to her face. 

What had she been called again? Scorpion? 

Thirty ships could have taken the same toll on life, you’d think a million would have burned the world’s crust to ash. Worse still, it had been driven off by two fleets—one belonging to the Sith, the other to the Alliance, neither of which had anywhere near their enemies’ numbers—losing over two hundred thousand ships in the process.

Why? It wasn’t this clumsy or random under Arcann, surely a droid—and a sentient droid at that—would be far deadlier in its tactics? Surely it would be able to bring out the full potential of the Eternal Fleet in a way that even old Faceless couldn’t? But this was reality: two major strikes, neither very impressive.

There had also been a ground assault, which had been somewhat more deadly: it had claimed the lives of six hundred Voss and Gormak and some soldiers of the Alliance, while losing all of its own droid soldiers.

A representative of Supreme Chancellor Madon’s office appeared onscreen to make a statement and Cam mentally tuned out the rest. Chancellor’s office never said anything worth listening to anymore. Nor for that matter did the Supreme Commander’s. Everything worth saying was kept secret, and instead they doubled down on anti-Imp rhetoric. 

What was being done for food and water? Rates for such basic needs were exorbitantly high right now after five years of paying Zakuul’s tributes. What was being done to combat the rising influence of the seedy underworld—smugglers and black marketeers, but also bandits and street gangs? Coruscant had become worse than Nar Shaddaa had! At least the Underworld there still answered to someone, even if it was the Hutts. They followed some semblance of rules. Here it was pure anarchy.

People were starving, it wasn’t the time to be proposing more war! At least not against the Sith—that particular war had stopped being relevant years ago. Besides, both sides were equally hungry and tired and battered, but still too entrenched to be wiped out entirely. The way Madon—or rather his puppeteer Saresh—kept calling for doubling down one would think all it would take was a single push.

Cam squinted into the mug, shocked that he had gone ahead and drained it all during his pondering. He had intended to keep it for at least the next few days! He had paid a week’s wages for this tiny quantity of stale booze! 

He forlornly pushed aside his tankard and rifled through his pockets. They were empty: all he had was his ration holocard now, which was good for another mouthful of bread today, perhaps a little greased bacon. About a half cup of water. It had been this bad once before, during Zakuul’s siege of Coruscant. 

But there was no siege now. This famine was caused by chronic shortages across the galaxy, not helped by the hefty tributes Arcann had demanded. 

There were other differences too; last time, people had gotten into a frenzy the hungrier they got. They had raided empty shops and dusty larders in the neighborhoods, convinced that goods were being hoarded there. They had rioted violently, hundreds had been killed in stampedes and brawls. Hundreds more had died in the police crackdowns.

This time however, everyone was much quieter. Maybe the difference was in how scared everyone was of Saresh’s dictatorial regime; Every morning entire extended families had been found missing from their cramped single-room houses; carried off for ‘questioning’ by the Chancellor’s new security police. Someone had tattled on them about some halfway critical comment they had once made, and they had been ‘suspected of treason’ and hauled off. 

Spies were everywhere, opportunists even more so. And it had everyone too scared to even talk about protests. Peaceful ones included.

People felt defeated this time. So defeated… 

His mind turned to these little Sullustans, former neighbors. Delightful young couple called Enven and Tunisa. They had been getting on well since the moment they had moved in, with their first child on the way.

The Siege had hit their large family particularly hard, with Enven giving his entire portion for his wife and children. Their youngest had died first, a little girl. Aril. Enven had died shortly after, shock and grief perhaps adding to the problems plaguing him. His death had left Tunisa to look after their seven remaining children alone. She had watched in mounting despair as all but her second-eldest died. After her second child had died, she had gotten increasingly desperate to keep the others alive. She had run triple shifts, signed up her children to work in the same weavers’ that she did so that she could look after them.

She had begged in the streets, offered to sell her body to make ends meet—though no one could take her up even if they wanted to; they were in the same position as she was. And so, she had watched her children die, growing ever more protective of those that remained. She had wailed at the top of her lungs for each loss, beating her head and tearing out her hair.

When the siege ended, she and her surviving son Ley were broken by the experience. Each clung to the other like they’d been glued together. Never apart, always afraid to lose each other. And always careful to stock up on ration bars for the long term.

They had made no secret of their activity, nor had any of the hundreds of families that had done the same in preparation for the next big siege. But Tunisa was one of many whose stores were ransacked. Right before the prices started getting too high to just resume the practice, in fact. And so, their food supply had dwindled just like the others, until it had taken the child’s life. After surviving that siege, the son died of starvation anyway; just the previous week. Such a cruel twist of fate. Tunisa had not wept this time. Not even a tear. Defeat dominated her downcast eyes as Cam had arranged for her son’s remains to be seen to. She had been found dead the next day, her bony corpse hanging from the rafters.

They’d been so young. Too young. All of them.

Cam emerged from his reverie and looked around. He saw glassy eyes and near-dead expressions on faces gaunt from months of counting bites. Some few talked, with a forced cheer that filled the bar which would otherwise have been quiet as a tomb.

Cam almost jumped as the Chancellor’s emergency security walked in on one of their rounds. Seven humans, eight droids. Their official name was ‘Loyal Sons and Daughters of Coruscant’. One day, people might laugh at the joke. 

Everyone in the bar stopped breathing. The Emergency Police didn’t walk into buildings often, not unless they were already going to arrest someone; they relied on ever-present probes to embody their presence.

Cam eyed the droids, swallowing heavily. These models employed by the Emergency police would not be out of place on a battlefield, or on an occupied world. Tall as wookies, twice as heavy from all that armoring, and with trigger fingers so itchy they might fill the air with lasers if they heard so much as a needle fall.

“Inspector Rine,” Tom the barman stammered. “What brings you here?”

“Business I’m afraid” the short human said, holding his nose high in the air and stroking his short beard self-importantly. The walking dead who were the patrons briefly came alive with a collective groan. “We’re here for a Mister Fannin. We have reason to believe that he was criticising the Chancellor.”

The room was dumbfounded. _They’re not even bothering to dress it up anymore, are they?_

The Zabrak who’d been named sputtered and stood. He had once cut a splendid figure, towering above the others and very well muscled. Now he was shrunk down to half his former size. Even his horns appeared brittle and flaky. “Yer such an ass, _Inspector_ ! I didn’t say nuthin about the _ex_ -Chancellor, just _you_!”

“You called me a murderer!” the whiny voiced Major grinned toothily. “Do you deny that?”

“O’ course I did, coz you _are_ a murderer! You killed Mayor Pavlov on Balmorra! And yeh even admitted it yourself! Gloated about how you made him beg. Is tha’ a crime?” 

“Everything I do is for the security of the state,” the man sang, his sweaty, toad-like face delighting in his power. “My actions have been sanctioned by the Supreme Chancellor herself! To accuse me is to accuse her. And to accuse her is treason!”

It was lost on no one that the sadistic bastard was referring to Saresh and not Madon— using ‘her’ instead of ‘him’. Of course, what he was saying wasn’t strictly true, or even legal. But what power did any of them even have anymore? It was just Saresh and whoever her lackeys placed in power. Whatever they vomited was law. Often, it was men like this son of a Sithspawn, who had once led Witch Hunts on Taris.

“Come, come, quickly now!” He clapped insistently. “Fannin of course, but any known associates present are obliged to come too, until such time as their names are cleared. Your families, of course, will likewise be taken into custody. Anyone who resists will also join our friend here.” He beamed so happily he might have been announcing the birth of his firstborn.

Several friends who had been at the same table stood, trembling like newborn mice. Despite their aghast expressions, they seemed to have no spirit to fight. Fannin looked around desperately, seeking for an out, but most of the patrons averted their gaze. Cam felt compelled to say something, to protest their unlawful arrest. But if he got involved, his children’s families would also face the music. And so he stayed silent, and seated. His stomach chose this moment to growl loudly and he winced. He hated that smug Inspector. With a vengeance..

One of his men collapsed without warning, and the Inspector shrieked comically and stumbled, crawling to the closest cover he could find. The Security Droids had reacted instantly. The clicks of the safeties on their blasters disengaging echoed through the silent bar. Cam tensed, ready to slip under the table the second those fingers twitched. 

Fortunately, the imminent firefight did not begin. 

"Hold it!" One of the cops cried, stepping in front of one of the Droids' blasters. "Nails wasn’t shot. Go on, scan him! Check his vitals! He’s ill, that’s all!" 

The Droid complied, stepping closer to the fallen cop. It pulled off his helmet with some force, and Cam saw that behind his faceplate, the man’s face was skeletal and gaunt. "No, he is dead alright. But… oh, I see... Cause of death: Starvation." 

Another moment of stunned silence from the watching patrons. Even the Emergency Police was working on starvation rations. Except for those in the higher levels.

The Inspector emerged from his hiding spot, making straight for another pair of frightened patrons: a Twi’lek couple. With deliberate, obvious motions, he picked up the tankard in front of the men—the one they had been sharing—,took a sip, and spat it back onto the table. “This is disgusting! You animals actually _drink_ this?” 

He tossed the cup over his shoulder with a look of smug disgust, waiting with apparent relish to hear the sound of the mug crashing onto the floor. Once the last echoes faded into silence, he turned to walk away.

“Sir!” one of the men protested. “Prices for ale are sky-high right now! That mug cost us a hundred and forty credits!”

The inspector turned back with another sadistic smile. “Do we have a problem?”

Both men shuddered and backed down. “No, sir.”

“I thought not.” He left, most of his escort following his dust trails. Two of the humans remained, hunched over the man who had died earlier. One of the men had taken off his helmet, and was dabbing at his eyes. Taking a closer look at the dead cop—who seemed more boy than man—Cam was filled with grudging pity. 

_So young, too young!_

* * *

**Odessen Base Barracks**

The base was mostly empty: a lot of the Alliance Personnel were offworld. Deployed on missions all over the Galaxy; raids, recon, transportation, escort, setting up new bases, getting in touch with local resistances--things like that. 

That had allowed Roban Queens to take his pick of rooms. The Alliance Commander had offered him an Officer's quarters, but Roban had declined. He was not yet certain that he would be joining the Alliance. His time as a soldier was done. Too many dead friends haunted his sleep already, and a careful look around told him that Battlemaster Arro was building up this base, Odessen Base, to be kind of a permanent thing. 

Roban had joined up with Koth almost on a whim, and he had done so for many reasons. None of which involved getting back into the war. 

He had wanted to study his former enemies—for thanks to Aric's messages he had already had a favorable opinion of Koth going in, and he had instantly felt sympathy for Vaylin as well, consequently he had not seen them as current enemies—and as their time on Ord Mantell had ended, he'd wanted to look after them both until they were safe again. 

But he had failed. He had been unable to force himself to go to the Shrine with Koth and Vaylin, and was thus over a hundred kilometres from his new friends when Zakuul had arrived. 

If he had been there, maybe Koth would still be alive. 

_Yet another friend haunting my dreams. I'm so sorry, Koth_. 

He stepped into his room, thanked the Droid accompanying him when it reminded him to call if he needed anything. 

He allowed his polite smile to fade only when the door closed. Courtesy to Droids had been something he had noted in Arro, back on Yavin. He wasn't such a big fan of Force-wielders in particular, not even this one. But something about his genuine friendship with his Tee Seven unit—and to a lesser extent, the SeeToo one as well—had struck a chord with him. 

That—along with his track record of getting the job done—were the only things he truly appreciated about the man. 

Pushing his thoughts aside, he gave the room a better look. He was quite pleased with it: it might be a room for a mere regular, but it was still big enough to stretch out in. 

The bed was tall enough for a Wookie to sleep in, and wide enough to accommodate two. He laughed at that: A military base that allowed fraternization? Even made allowances for it? It really shouldn't have been so funny considering that some of the top people were married couples. Arro and Beniko, Theron and Aric, probably some others he didn't even want to know about. But it was. 

Besides, what next? What if some people got into a polyamorous relationship? What if some were into kink? Would they be accommodated as well? 

Ava’s voice head whispered in his head: _Yes, probably._ He chortled. But he added the observation to the evidence that installation was a semipermanent one, or at least meant to last until that city was big enough for the personnel to move in. 

He began the process of settling in: The first thing he did was inspect and polish his weapons. Years of frequent use had caused the paint to fade, but the metal still gleamed thanks to the care he took of his weapons. Take care of your weapon, and it will see you through your darkest hours. He neatly polished each weapon in his pack, both inside and out, going in order of how frequently he got to use them. 

First the DLA-13 Heavy Assault Rifle, then his trusty GR-9 Plasma Blaster Pistol. Then the long knife he liked using in close quarters—which had been a gift from General Garza herself after his defeat of the Imperial Shadow Fist. Finally, he got to the RH-35 Cannon. Picking it up always brought bad memories. Whenever he picked up this weapon, it was coz he was already drowning in enemy waves. In other words, his worst missions. These included the blasted fields of Balmorra, dense concrete jungles of Corellia, and the desperate months trapped on Klatooine. But also, it had been the weapon he had used on the day he had sacrificed Ava. He could still hear her begging not to die like this…

He coughed, and put away the weapons before giving his armor the same careful treatment.

His next order of business was to shower and put on some fresh clothes. After he was done, he opened the cupboard and neatly arranged all of his possessions inside. Things that were meant for laundry, he placed in the designated basket and closed the lid, leaving the basket outside for the housekeeping to take care of. 

Then he finally sat down on the sofa, letting out his breath with a whoosh. With nothing else left to do, he switched on the holoprojector, to watch the news. He feverishly avoided any coverage of Voss—that was still too raw for him—but when he saw that the only things newsreaders were talking about was food shortages, war, suffering, and death, he switched it off.

He briefly considered one of those dramas that Ava had loved to watch, but he never himself liked fiction.

So, he turned away from the projector, and fished an old flimsiplast sheet out of his pocket. It was a still of himself with Ava on the only holiday they'd managed together. 

It was at a resort on Cato Neimoidia, and they were both sitting in a hot spring with the base of a waterfall in the backdrop. It had been merely weeks after he'd asked her to marry him. After she'd accepted, and so damn tearfully. 

They'd been so happy then, not knowing that reality would smash their hopes less than four months later. 

That Ava Jaxo would be dead, and by Roban's own hand no less. All to save dozens of strangers. Fellow Republic soldiers, yes, but strangers nonetheless. All the free drinks in the Galaxy could not make him feel better, nor the posthumous commendations that were heaped upon Ava's empty grave. 

Choosing Jaxo would have broken them both, and ended both of their lives as soldiers. But what did two soldiers matter? They weren't Jedi, like that blasted Battlemaster. Someone would have risen from the ranks to take their place. There were always more. But the war had just dragged on and on. Even when it seemed they were about to win the Galaxy always had another curveball ready to knock things off balance again. 

Every one of the troops he had saved that day were dead. Most had died by the end of the year. Fewer than fifteen were still alive during the Battle of Corellia. Two had been around during the time of Ilum. Some of them hadn't even gotten to see their families again before they had been sent back out to die. 

This was what Jaxo's life had bought. Precious nothing. That's all the blood of soldiers ever bought. 

And now he was in the heart of this Alliance, who were fighting a new war. What was he even doing anymore? 

* * *

**Coruscant, Senate Plaza**

Daivd Archet was always surprised how comfortable he felt here on Coruscant. There was something about how everything on this planet was about politics, about secrets and lies, that just made him feel right at home even in the worst of times. 

He'd been here several times before on business, and a few of those times had indeed been during… Bad times. Lean times. 

None more so than these days. For during the previous emergencies people had at least been allowed to express their discontent. They were allowed to stand in the streets and talk about their growing hunger. To demand action from the Senate. Now even whispers were dangerous. 

The Senate—under ex-Chancellor Saresh's direction—never ever talked about the problems to the public. They never discussed the empty markets and restaurants, or the emaciated citizens dying on the streets. They did not talk about the Eternal Fleet’s activities no matter how alarming they were. They hadn't even commented on SCORPIO's all out offensive a few weeks ago, let alone the assault on Voss. 

In fact, he had it on good authority that they were going to release a bill later today that even gagged news channels. Pretty soon, everyone would only be hearing exactly what Saresh wanted them to: that the only threat they needed to worry about was the Sith Empire. And that they—the Republic—needed to dedicate every last ounce effort to the fight against them. Every last decicred, every milliliter of fuel, every last spaceworthy ship, and every last drop of Republic blood. 

And that once the Sith were extinct at last, the problems would magically disappear. But until then, it would be their duty to bear with the restrictions and inconveniences.

After all, what was the starvation of billions next to the lofty goal of everlasting peace and security? This was the hour of the trial, the time to buckle up and double down! 

It sickened him. Back in the old days, every republic soldier and agent he ever encountered spoke of their government's supposed purity and benevolence. None had listened when he had warned them about the truth. Not that being right brought him any satisfaction. Accuracy was merely his job. His bread and butter. Entire campaign plans had been drawn up around his information. 

It was only a little better on his homeworld of Dromund Kaas, he knew. The death toll there had crossed a million yesterday. And no matter what world you were on, it was going to get a whole lot worse. 

And it was in large part thanks to Galactic Solutions Industries. They were well on their way to destroying the Galaxy. 

Fortunate for that Galaxy, then, that the Commander had reached out to him to make things better. 

He slipped into the surveillance blindspot before sending his encrypted message. 

"Watcher One to Shara. My work here is finished. I'll be at the rendezvous in nine days." 

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Book 4, Chapter 5  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/67808764


	11. Home on Odessen

* * *

**Odessen**

Vaylin explored the halls of Odessen Base, her presence challenged by none. 

The entire place was so quiet... Vaylin would never have guessed it was the same place that had broken her brother’s power for good; there were only a handful of soldiers. Most were out in the field, raiding SCORPIO’s armories and factories. Tracking her fleet. Coordinating with resistance camps all over the former Zakuulan Empire. Other missions she could only guess at. There were still tens of thousands of people on the planet itself, but they were civilians for the most part, and all in different towns that dotted the planet. 

Civilian settlements? Here? That had intrigued her

She had asked a C2 droid for information on the planet and it had been too happy to oblige.

There were all kinds of people on Odessen now, not just soldiers and support personnel. Farmers tilling the new land. Contractors building the first major city less than twenty kilometers from the base. In fact, the first residential areas had already been completed, and some of the Alliance had begun the process of moving there. 

There were dozens of factories all over the world too, and for the most part they were producing goods directly needed for the war: weapons, armor, munitions, shields, combat vehicles. But there were also foodstuffs, textiles, building materials, and more. Regulations were already in place to avoid over exploitation of the world.

Off-world Trade was encouraged, especially since the base’s location wasn’t a secret after Arcann’s fateful attack. Merchants came and left as they pleased, though they had to dock far from the military base. They went to the towns when they landed but recently a new avenue had opened up for them: The Intergalactic Market was the first thing the builders had completed, a vast collection of malls and shops; well decorated with gardens, statues, and fountains. And of course what shopping complex wasn’t complete without restaurants and street food vendors? 

Security had also been set up so that people could go about their business in peace. A local government had been established too, one answerable to the Alliance Command, but which did a good job of day-to-day civic administration as well as settling the few disputes and petty crimes that had started to arise.

Vaylin was impressed. 

Koth’s voice whispered apologetically.  _ It’s not Zakuul _ .

_ So what if it isn’t? _ She asked.  _ I don’t care about Zakuul anymore. _

Someone had planned for this world to become a long-term settlement, with all the amenities and comforts of a real home on a well-settled planet. Not at all the purely military mindset of ‘Get the mission done first, we sort out the afterwards… afterwards.’

“Oh, that was Mistress Beniko!” the C2 unit beamed. “She lay the groundwork for Odessen. Right from the start she intended this to be a fully self-sufficient world, and for that it needs a proper infrastructure.”

“Yeah, thank you. She’s a genius, I get it.” Vaylin muttered, thinking about the pale Sith. Beniko sent chills down her spine. Everything about her was so quiet and ghost-like. She moved and spoke like a gentle breeze over a grassy field. But any breeze could become a gale, and Beniko held the subtle promise of something much harsher, and it unsettled her. 

Vaylin vaguely remembered the Sith from the day she and Arro fled the Eternal City. She had barely noticed her then, barely given her a second thought. Back in those days she had been much more arrogant, with the full confidence afforded to someone with her power and authority. 

In those days, the only name that had mattered to her other than the Outlander’s and Senya’s, had been Koth Vortena. He had been one of the few high-ranking soldiers of note; had managed some daring raids with his crew, had even won a commendation for bravery. But most prominently, he had been the only one to have disobeyed a direct order from Arcann. Even Senya had gone about it much more circumspectly, not declaring herself until the Battle of Asylum. Vortena had been open, which was why Vaylin had known him.

The others? Theron Shan, Lana Beniko and the rest? She hadn’t bothered with their names. She had considered them beneath her notice.

The thought made her snort wryly. How much she had changed! Now she was quite aware just how dangerous even the most innocuous Droid soldier was. She wondered if Akahte would be pleased, or sad. 

Beniko was of particular note; she had slain the Sith Jadus, who had attacked Vaylin when she had been indisposed. Though she had fought him off, he had left an impression on her. He still appeared as a dangerous phantom in her dreams. It was odd to think that Beniko had slain one of her demons.

_ I should thank her when next I see her _ .

_ Yeah, you should! _ Koth agreed from beside her.  _ And then get to know her. Lana’s fantastic. You’ll love her! _

_ Maybe some other time. _

For now, Vaylin wanted to continue exploring Odessen. Maybe check out the city later, visit some of those restaurants while she was there. With luck, she’d found a new home. At least for now.

* * *

Lord Scourge observed Vaylin from a discreet distance as she explored her new surroundings. He was convinced she was no threat for the moment, but things could always change. He could already see grief and shock affecting this girl’s attunement to the Force, shifting the balance towards the Dark Side. Or in her case, Stormy Tides. For he knew from past experience that she grew volatile as she grew more emotional. 

And volatility made her a severe danger again, as that fool Jadus had learned to his chagrin. But for now, perhaps she could be used.

The voice that spoke in his mind would have startled anyone so badly they might have jumped and screamed. Dulled as his emotions were, Scourge still stumbled. 

_ Why wait? _ It said. _ You weren’t so hesitant with me. And I  _ MADE _ you. _

The voice was so familiar! Where had he heard it before? “Who’s there?” he whispered, looking around wildly. His fingers itched for his lightsaber but he resisted the urge. Sabers never were much use against shades.

The image of a woman shimmered in front of him for a second, more like a mirage of a mirage than a Force ghost or a vision. The woman was a Pureblood Sith, face ravaged by decades of flirtation with the Dark Side. She dressed in ornate robes of black, gold, red and silver. Gemstones adorned her hair like a net of stars, and a blood diamond the size of a Leidan khod-chick egg rested on her throat.

_ Impossible. _

“Nyriss,” Scourge said smoothly. “I trust you are well?”

_ No, you daft brute. I am dead. YOU betrayed me. Killed me. _

“You had a target the size of Mount Itok on your back. I felt compelled to hit it soundly.”

_ Such is the way, I suppose. But why do you hold back now? _

“Because I can’t kill you again,” Scourge said. “Nor do I even care to. You are beneath me. The Ghost of our former Master however.  _ Him _ I  _ will _ kill. Now be off with you. I do not have time for fools like you.”

Nyriss cackled but vanished, leaving Scourge feeling uneasier than he’d felt in centuries. He shook himself and sped up, intending to catch up to the girl. And introduce himself properly.

* * *

Vaylin Felt him long before she saw him, and the Feeling made her very nervous: he felt exactly like her accursed Father. But he couldn’t be Him, could he? Arro had destroyed her Father’s last remaining physical avatar, at least for now. There couldn’t be one running around! Especially not on this world!

The giant Pureblood walked up to her with confident steps, and she thought it was akin to watching doom sidle up to her in a bar.

She tried her hardest not to appear intimidated. She kept her arms firmly on her hips rather than folded around her own shoulders. She stood up straight, tapping her foot impatiently, scowled angrily.

“Cute,” the Sith grunted. “You can drop the act child. I am not your enemy.”

“So you say,” she challenged. “But you certainly  _ FEEL _ like my greatest enemy. Why is that?”

The giant smiled. “Ah, so you  _ can _ sense it. Good.”

“Why?” she repeated, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

“Perhaps you can guess why. Your Father has shared some of his Immortality with me.”

“I knew it!” Vaylin shrieked. She ignored the uneasy stares of the few guards within earshot. “And you say you are not my enemy?”

The Sith nodded, waving away the guards. They obeyed him. “I will tell you my story in full, Princess,” he informed her. “And then we are going to be among the best of friends.”

_ Look out, _ Arcann said.  _ You cannot trust someone who Feels like Father. Be on your guard. _

Vaylin ignored him, and nodded for the Sith to continue.

* * *

Arro fumbled with the keycard to their new home’s outer gate as Lana waited patiently beside him. Heavens, how his hands were shaking! They were about to enter their new home. An actual home! The thought made him feel giddy with joy.

Here, he and Lana could begin to live their marital life in peace… actually that was probably a lie, they’d be putting out fires for the rest of their lives. But it felt so incredible! In a way it felt like the natural next step after taking their wedding vows. Moving into a house of their very own…

It was larger than he’d dared to hope for, with a spacious yard. It had a nice garage, and the terrace doubled as a landing pad for his ship.  _ Once I get another one, that is. If. _

He probably would: he was still often needed to move at a moment’s notice, and a personal Starship was convenient. Perhaps a smaller model than his Light Corvette though. He blushed. On some level it felt a little dishonest to expect such luxuries.

“You were thinking of something horny, weren’t you?” Lana teased.

“Oh, For once, no!” He laughed. “Just a little taken aback. I’m so eager for such luxuries now! Isn’t that completely out of character for me?”

“You’re not a Jedi any longer,” she reminded him. “And really, you  _ do _ deserve this. Just how many times have you saved the galaxy.” 

“But still, it’s so  _ big! _ ”

She kissed his hand. “Come on now, Commander. Time to actually enter the house!”

“Ah, yes! Our home! Here, we shall live out our days in bliss!” He smiled. “It’s a brave new world waiting for us, my love.”

She giggled. “You’re ridiculous!”

“I’m excited! Aren’t you excited?”

She mock-glared up at him for a second before allowing her features to soften. “Yes, my sweetling husband, so I am! This feels surreal. Like a dream. I never expected us to manage something as simple and ordinary as getting a new home together.”

“Never mind that you designed it into reality yourself?”

“Yes. Even so.”

She took the key from him and unlocked the house’s main door. Then she took his hand and the two of them walked in together, to get their first look of their new home. It took Arro’s breath away. It was a simple home to live in, if spacious. The walls were white, the floors carpeted. Beautiful cerulean curtains were drawn across the windows. The rooms were well insulated against noise and weather. He felt instantly peaceful stepping in here, and so too did Lana. She snuggled against his shoulder again, and he wrapped himself around her. It felt  _ perfect _ .

It was not yet fully furnished, but the essentials were there. The Living Room was well lit, with a set of sofas arranged around a table. A wall-mounted holoprojector sat on the wall opposite them. Potted plants sat in two of the corners. They seemed to be from Rishi, Arro thought.

There were paintings on the walls too, actual paint on canvas! “How much did these cost?” He asked, admiring an abstract painting. 

“Not as much as you’d imagine,” Lana answered. He could feel her impatience; she wanted to explore the rest of their house. “Surprising what some people throw away. Now can we continue? On to the kitchen!”

Technically the kitchen and dining rooms were attached to the hall, so they weren’t separate rooms. But he allowed her to drag him through the small dining area and into the kitchen beyond. Upon entering Arro immediately saw that it was equipped for a master chef’s home. Or his imagining of one at least. The space—which was at least as large as the living and dining rooms combined—was meticulously furnished to allow a chef—Lana, who enjoyed cooking— maximum freedom and efficiency. The floor was dominated by a large counter in the middle, which had dozens of cabinets and drawers. Presumably for holding any and all necessary cutlery, pots and pans, containers, and appliances. There were a pair of Ovens of different sizes, a big Stove with four burners, a dishwasher, two sinks, and a refrigerator. He could Feel her joy at seeing it, could see her eagerness to begin using this space that she had dreamed of building ever since they got married.

She couldn’t today, unfortunately; supplies were still low. That didn’t dampen her enthusiasm though, as she explored every square inch of her new dream workspace with stars in her eyes.

Arro felt his own pleasure. He had rarely ever seen Lana this excited.

_ Someday my Love, I will bring you peace. All the time in the world. And you can use this kitchen to the fullest of its capabilities. _

_ Small goals Arro, _ he told himself.  _ Small goals. _

When she finished her tour of her new kitchen she fell deep in thought, and deflated a bit. The sorrow that had lingered in her heart since Koth’s death grew until it eclipsed her earlier enthusiasm “I promised both Koth and Senya that they could taste some of my favourite recipes someday. I still can’t believe they’re both gone.” She turned her mournful eyes on him. “Whatever else happens my Love, promise you won’t leave me all alone.”

“I promise.”

Valkorion stirred.  _ And here I thought you were  _ careful _ in your promises, boy. _

_ If I can’t make this commitment, I don’t deserve her love Old Man _ .

Their veneer of civility had chilled since the attack on Voss, and the shade of Valkorion was being much more pointed and frequent in his jabs now, but Arro really didn’t want to deal with him right now.

Now, his poor, grieving wife needed him. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Book 4, Chapter 5: Akahte's Secrets  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/67808764


	12. Day of Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Book 4, Chapter 8: Day of Sorrow  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/68462033

* * *

**The Homing Bacon,** **  
** **Coruscant**

Cassardel Amhin Meersel—Cam—tried to ignore his throbbing head as he nursed his cup. The cantina had no food to serve today, and the only beverages were water and watered-down caf. And it wasn’t just this run-down pub with such a lacklustre menu. Few establishments on Coruscant—even the Nine Star ones—had much food on offer any more, though of course the rich still had stores, and could get more from the black market. But the cost would be dear, even for them. More than one starving tycoon had tried to exchange luxurious ball-gowns and paintings for a few small crates of food and medicine, only to be turned down. As bad as the hunger problems were the epidemics that had sprung up.

For all but the most powerful elites, there was no more food to be had outside of the tight rations, and the rest of the people were growing desperate, resentful. Every face he passed on the street was a combination of guarded, sullen, haunted, frantic, wretched, or dead-eyed.

Here in the Homing Bacon, most of the patrons now only ever turned up for the company. To commiserate together.

Today, all attention was focussed on the holoprojector.

It was that sneering prick, Rh’naub Gossamers. That one loved arranging volatile ‘panels’ where accusations and vitriol flew willy-nilly when he wasn’t bombasting his ‘dear viewers’. But people, it seemed, loved a good fleet wreck. And the topic today seemed interesting. Some King had been assassinated, but not until he had unleashed hell upon his subjects for daring to speak out against him.

Normally someone would have made a “this is why monarchies suck!” or “republics for the win, baby!” or such comments, but in today’s Republic that was just so much bantha.

Right now the seven panelists were engaged in a rapid fire round of retorts and rhetoric.

_ “This is not the Republic we have fought for!” _

_ “Oh, as if you have not fought so much as a shadow, Secretary Draft Dodger!” _

_ “Unlawful…” _

_ “After what he did, any legitimate government would have him shot anyway!” _

_ “But without the system it’s just murder.” _

_ “The system abandoned the people of Dubrillion.” _

_ “Not the spirit of the Republic.” _

_ “The spirit of the… Haven’t you been paying attention lately, woman?” _

_ “Please, gentlebeings, let’s keep it civil!” _ Gossamer called. He always reigned them in when the talk was about to go in a problematic direction. 

_ “This… Spacer, this Captain Stede. On whose authority did she act?” _

“Blimey, did’ee say Stede?” McKeet asked incredulously. “Tha’s the Voidhound, tha’ is! Took down the Voidwolf at the Battle uh C’rellia!”

“No idea who that is, Keet.”

“Seriously?” Vara asked around a good-natured sneer. “That was a bigshot outlaw who got himself appointed Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy!”

“He strong-armed a bunch of pirates and raiders to form a large fleet,” Tomis added. “To ambush a Republic convoyas it dropped out of Hyperspace. Could have done some serious damage too, if Stede hadn’t taken him out. And to add insult to his newly departed memory, she turned his fleet on an Imperial convoy.”

“Guys, guys! Shut up!” Cam called. He’d missed the Dubrillion Diplomat’s answer. And a bit of the discussion that had followed.

_ “That man needed to be killed and no one else could or would do it. Even the Republic abandoned them. Did you know that Actavarus’s assassins didn’t limit their activities to Dubrillion? He killed my Sister! He killed Cedonia and her entire family, who were living peacefully on Chandrila!” _

_ “Please, Lord Teraan,” _ Gossamer said, his eyes shining.  _ “Can you elaborate for our viewers?” _

The Alderaanian noble’s eyes were filled with tears.  _ “Certainly!” _ he spat.  _ “My sister Cedonia married a Republic hero named Jerre Kraot.”  _ McKeet groaned at the name, but this time he didn’t interrupt the broadcast.  _ “He was a veteran of several major conflicts including Balmorra, Taris, and Corellia. He fought and bled for the Republic, and earned his right to live out a peaceful life with my Sister. They had three children together. The youngest, Juunie, was only three months old!” He was overwhelmed by grief, but continued to speak through his tears. “Thirty-seven hours ago, as they were celebrating their eighth year anniversary, when their house was bombed. The assassin walked into the burning home and EXECUTED all of them when they were unconscious! He was terrorizing his subjects and killing people all the way on Chandrila and Captain Stede was the only one who had the nerve to stop him. So what if she wasn’t sanctioned? It’s not like the Republic was going to lift a finger to help them. Heck, maybe we need someone with her initiative on Coruscant right now!” _

Several of the patrons whooped and applauded. 

“WHO WAS THAT?”

Everyone turned to the door. No one was surprised to see the corpulent Inspector Rine at the door, who had begun to terrorize the local populace almost daily. And of course he had come with his customary guard droids watching over him. 

“WHO CHEERED?”

Unfortunately, he had entered at the worst possible moment. Unfortunately, that is, for  _ him _ .

“Afternoon, tubby,” Cam smiled amiably. “You’ve still been eating well, haven’t you?” Everyone in the cantina chortled heartily. The sadistic officer’s daily incursions, far from intimidating everyone, was having the effect of numbing them. An effect that was deepened by the suffering; no one had any kriffs left to give.

He turned his drunken-monkey-lizard stare upon Cam. “WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?” He hollered.

“What’s the matter?” Tomis mocked him. “On top of being myopic, dumb, yellow, and pathetic, you’re deaf too?”

“Geddouta here, ‘nspector,” McKeet grinned. “Lookin at that rotund belly uh yours is makin us poor starvin animals jealous.”

“YOU UNGRATEFUL BEASTS!” he shrieked, waving his arms comically. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM? I AM ALL THAT PROTECTS YOU FROM THE WOLVES HIDING IN YOUR MIDST!”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Cam asked. “When you take people away to your prisons, and confiscate all five of their credits?”

“Or liberate food stores and ship them off to your own little fortress? Your larders must be full, seeing how healthy you're looking.”

“Summa those lads look dead on their feet though. All of that plunderin, and you don’t even share the loot with yer guards? ‘Keep em mean, keep em hungry’, is tha’ yer motto now?”

“Course he doesn’t, remember that kid who dropped dead in here just three weeks ago?”

The seven organic guards—without exception— shuffled, and one of them mumbled mutinously, but the corrupt officer barely noticed.

Screaming, he pulled out his sidearm. “THAT’S IT! I’VE HAD ENOUGH! I’M GOING TO HAVE YOU ALL HANGED! SHOT!”

Tomis giggled. “Rine, old pal, you can put that thing down,” she mocked him. “You’re embarrassing yourself! It’s obvious you’ve never fired one of those before.”

He was so furious that coherent speech seemed to abandon him for a moment. Then he steadied his aim and fired three shots. None of them hit Tomis, or anyone else for that matter. But the atmosphere changed immediately. All seventeen patrons got to their feet, as did the barman. The bouncers came in too, with their cudgels held ready. All over the cantina, hold-out blasters were drawn.

The police—organic or otherwise—responded by drawing their own blasters, but Rine froze. Fear warred with his anger.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he whispered. Tomis walked up to him. She snatched his blaster from his clammy fingers and pointedly tossed it over her shoulder. She hadn’t forgotten how he had broken up her baby brother’s date that time.

He whimpered and made ready to flee, but she punched him right between the eyes and he went down.

“Down on the floor!” one of the Droids ordered, while a Mon Calamari desperately said “Be reasonable!” But it was too late now. At Tomis’ action, everyone had started to move.

Those with blasters began firing at the posse, while those without ducked behind tables and tried to flank them. Several of the cops dropped their weapons and fled, but the droids closed ranks and opened fire.

Cam—moving with a fraction of the strength of mere weeks past—picked up his stool and hurled it at the droids; judging by the sound he knocked one clean of its feet, but he didn’t pause to see. He was already ducking for cover. 

He heard a shot hit flesh, heard Netts’ scream. Then he heard two more follow. He didn’t stop to think. He waited for another five seconds, then judging that all surviving droids were pointing their blasters at his armed pals, he rushed out from behind cover and rolled. His sliding bulk knocked the droids off their spindly legs, and they fell in a confused heap. He picked up the heaviest article within reach—another stool; probably not the same one he tossed earlier—and began to smash the droids with all his might. Others emerged to help him, some of them picking up the fallen weapons. They converged on the droids and shot, blasted, smashed, and crushed them until they were a sparkling scrap pile.

Inspector Rine was stirring. More like whimpering, so Tomis walked up to him and smashed his head in with a ripped-off droid’s arm.

But Rine aside, all of the Secret Police had fled. This was bad; once they got back to their HQ, they could bring down the full weight of their illegal, discretionary powers down upon them. But as the din inside the pub died down, Cam could swear that he heard commotion from the outside.

One of the bouncers took a look outside, then with a whoop and a savage warcry, he ran out, his cudgel held aloft, followed by his buddy. With the blood no longer pounding in his head, Cam could hear unmistakable sounds of unrestrained chaos; breaking glass, crashing of metal and granite, blaster bolts, riot-grade  _ kriffing _ sonic detonators, the stomps of hundreds of stampeding feet, and the screams—angry screams, or frightened ones, or those of the dying and wounded.

Cam stepped outside and saw that the riot was even worse than it sounded. He briefly came back to his senses. How had this happened? Had people outside heard the blasterfire inside the  _ Bacon _ , and attacked the fleeing guards? Had the spark instantly been fanned into a blaze by years of stacking the tinders? 

Vara came out behind him, her weathered face twisting in satisfaction. She roared and sprinted into the mess, picking up a fallen metal bar as a weapon, and fell upon a horrified trio of guards. 

“THAT’S FOR FANNIN, YOU KRIFFING BASTARDS!”

At her roar, Cam’s rage rekindled and he led the remainder of the patrons into the riot.

* * *

**Aboard the Ultra-class Luxury Longstrider Corvette** **_Locust_ ** **,** **  
** **Hutt Space**

Ralika Tussek listened as her husband’s secretary, Ordwald Ashthorn, summarized the day’s reports for him.

“Riots have finally begun on Coruscant, Corellia, and Nar Shaddaa. They spread from there to Alsakan, Anaxes, Ator, Axxila, Carratos, Denon, Empress Teta, Gerrenthum, Jutrand, Christophsis, Karideph, Lianna, Metellos, Nar Shaddaa, Skako, Trantor…”

“A full list isn’t necessary,” Roshan—or as he was now called by his inner circle, Lord Panathar—interrupted. “How many worlds?”

“Three hundred and Ninety-seven, sir. Mostly Republic-held worlds, but then the Republic always did have a larger share of Ecumenopoleis. Hutts have authorized harsh crackdowns on all rioters in Hutt space, and the Empire executed a thousand slaves and laborers on Ravn.”

“A  _ thousand _ ?” Ralika asked, her ears twisting around in surprise. “That’s very restrained of them.”

“Yes, ma’am. Acina is still sticking to Darth Nox’s policies for the time being.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Death toll across the galaxy is an estimated a hundred and eighteen million, so far, and bound to get worse. Seventeen billion credits worth of property damage. And our agents managed to set fire to some of the existing stores in the chaos.”

“They’re nice and starved now.” Ralika commented. “Perhaps it’s time to release some of our food stores?”

“Perhaps,” Roshan said. “All the worlds you listed were Ecumenopoleis.”

“Those were highest on the list, sir,” Ordwald said. “There were also industrial worlds. Least affected are the Agricultural worlds. They are still producing enough food to stay a few steps ahead of hunger. Just a few though.”

“See if that news can be circulated among the rioters,” Roshan nodded. “Encourage the idea to confiscate those stores. I want the idea on the Senate floor by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes sir.”

“And about that… other thing?” Roshan prompted, and Ralika’s ears perked up.

“Yes sir. There has been an increase in cases of people seeing the dead. A steep one. I believe the number is significantly larger than reported because there’s just that many traumatized people out there. Such people may just write it off as part of their traumas. Some others, like Force-Users, might not care, being used to it in some form or other. But the cases are on the rise, and I expect people to start noticing soon. And, also as you suspected, the cases are more on worlds Lord Jhestyr set foot on.”

“Ha!” Roshan barked, stroking the gem on his throat. “Ha! Well played, you slimy little Zabrak! Well played! Hysteria is beginning to set in. Wherever you are, I hope you’re pleased!” He rose suddenly. “Well, I can’t be outdone by a dead fossil, can I? I want to oversee operations personally!”

“Also, sir, some news from your tertiary businesses that you may wish to see. Takeover bids and—”

“No need, Ordwald! No need. Those businesses can look after themselves now. Even if they can’t, there’s nothing that can stop us right now! I’m headed to my office now.”

“Very good, sir.”

* * *

**The New Olbersan Keepers Corporation,** **  
** **Manaan**

Shara Bey loved playing spymaster, and working on this Mega Corporate project of Lana’s was a good approximation of it. Perhaps it was exactly the same: gathering and comparing data from sources across the galaxy, directing agents to pursue new and varied avenues of investment, bagging targets—in this case, lucrative trade deals—before anyone else could. Keeping an eye on the market, the competition, and her own assets all at the same time was so familiar she felt right at home.

Staying ahead of competitors was rather simple since she had her sights set so high. Although technically her new company was still far too small-time to even consider naming as a rival to Roshan Tussek’s Galactic Solutions, she already had the resources to get there quickly. The key was to not overplay her hand, for the second her efforts became known, the tycoon was sure to find out. He was sure to retaliate.

For now, she would move by chipping away at his corporate empire, buying up his proxies and tertiary businesses with a dozen different subsidiaries of her own.

She could further set it up to cascade out of all proportion once she was truly ready, and would have enough steam that this time in a few months, she—and the Alliance—would own a huge chunk of the market that GSI currently dominated. 

And to add insult to injury, Watcher One should, by then, have enough evidence to bury the so-called ‘Lord Panathar’ under a ton of criminal indictments.

* * *

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Book 4, Chapter 9: Conflagration  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/68693289


	13. The Little Wars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous: Book 4, Chapter 9: Conflagration  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/68693289

* * *

**The Endless Swamp,** **  
** **Zakuul**

Despite the constant presence of mortal peril, despite the endless swarms of bugs, the perpetual traipsing through the knee-deep mud, and piss-poor amenities, Aric Jorgan found that he loved working on Zakuul. The work he did here was the purest form of what he had signed up to do, all those years ago. Fighting a tyrannical oppressor and protecting the innocent. A clear right and wrong. Enemies easily discernible from allies and civvies. No politics.

Still, he thought he understood the sentiment behind the naming of this damned swamp. 

On the plus side, it made it easier for their guerilla armies to hide. Especially since their enemies were droids. Mechanical body parts were much more prone to flooding and rusting, of short-circuits and overloads. Metal was also heavier, denser, and in danger of sinking and getting stuck.

In a drier environment an enemy might consider setting fire to the forest, leaving the guerillas with nothing but cinders for cover. But the wood was wet, and rains, frequent. And the swamps were so full of organic life that scans could never discover them.

Sadly there were downsides too: bugs swarmed around you in clouds so thick that they hampered vision, and their buzzing deafened the ears. Disease was a huge danger too, from the water, the parasites, and the climate. The Alliance had provided the largest resistance groups with as much general-purpose vaccination as they could, but the smaller groups, and those farther out on the fringes, were harder to supply.

On the occasion that a camp was found, they were on their own. Help could not arrive quickly. Three camps had been attacked so far, but two of them had repulsed their attackers before dispersing, while the other managed to escape, though they had to abandon a lot of their equipment and supplies.

It really helped having the General along: she really was a genius in this kind of warfare. Jorgan could control a small platoon of troopers, but General Bolvar—with the right supplies—could orchestrate every guerilla cell across the entire planet.

A good chunk of her strategy involved moving. Always keep moving and with full packs, but at an easy pace. Once you got used to it, that is; the resistance soldiers—already toughening up when Bolvar landed—had struggled to keep up at first. They only covered around fifteen kilometers everyday.

But the movement was never random; each group was always headed to a specific location, a specific target. Rather, to one of several possible targets, with no one knowing which would be the one they finally hit, if at all. And these targets could be anything: Factories, supply depots, comm centers, garrisons, fortified strongholds, power generators, shields, ground-to-space defenses, or landing pads.

Scouts marched ahead along each of the possible routes in teams of up to four, and a rearguard of ten trailed the main camps from a distance, sending warnings if they were being tracked, or if they were themselves attacked.

The main body of the camps, not including the scouts or rearguard, had no more than fifty people. Everyone was a combatant, though some were reserves. The small size made it easy to evade SCORPIO’s patrols, but were also easier to feed by foraging and hunting. Another aspect to the General’s philosophy was to never strip a land bare of resources, or even come close to it. Aside from the environmental benefits, the obvious practical side of this doctrine was that a zone was never so depleted that the guerillas would be pressed for resources if they were pressed back into them.

As many as five of these bands traveled close together, and would often converge to attack a target before scattering again.

As Special Forces, Havoc usually traveled as the vanguard of the General’s camp. This camp was smaller than others at just twenty nine soldiers including Darth Nox and a pair of Zakuulan Knights. It also traveled much faster, usually covering twenty kilometers a day, but sometimes going as many as thirty. This camp was always near a major target during an attack, sometimes even participating in the raids. Jorgan—as a former elite sniper—was often deployed on a sniper’s nest to cover the attacking force, with Kanner leading the squad in his stead. 

The only flaw in the strategy—and a big flaw it was—was the refugee question. Many thousands of Zakuulans deemed unfit for combat were, for the time being, housed in crudely barricaded refugee camps in caves and mountains. It was not ideal—they were sitting ducks, and all but impossible to resupply—but it was the best they could do. For now, they had some people for foraging and hunting, for scavenging. Some worked to till what dry land they could, but there were no farmers among them, so it seemed hopeless. Jorgan doubted they’d ever manage to grow any.

When SCORPIO had taken over, Nox and the Khroovan resistance leader Caradha had secured as many supplies as they could get their hands on, but it hadn’t been enough. Not to mention: they could not save everyone. They had been forced to abandon millions, who were now housed in SCORPIO’s prisoner camps, most of which were inside the cities themselves. So far as Jorgan could tell, SCORPIO did not trust them enough to use them as slave labor in any of her major factories. She kept them alive merely to humiliate them, forcing them to experience life without servants. For a decadent people long used to having droids do everything for them, this had been difficult. And they didn’t even have the comfort of freedom like the rebels did. 

Sadly, since feeding even fifty thousand was a major strain, the only way the guerillas could help the prisoners was by deposing SCORPIO. Retaking the planet. And Alliance Command had made it clear that they would not invade until SCORPIO’s base of operations—her version of the Throne—had been found. They had authorized General Bolvar to take it herself if she could.

A soldier emerged from the underbrush and jogged in his direction. “Sir!” she called softly, removing her mask. It was Kanner.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“A whole bunch of news just came in. SCORPIO launched a full scale assault on Voss. A million ships.”

Jorgan was taken aback. “What? Why Voss? It’s a neutral world with little in the way of resources… or even strategic value!”

“Well, apparently, Koth and Vaylin were there.” 

Oh. That made sense then. 

“So she got Vaylin then?” He hoped so. That would make some things easier.

“Negative, Sir. The Alliance got there in time to drive them off. And the Sith too from the looks of it. A major rout for the Eternal Fleet.” Jorgan snorted. Kanner continued, “Apparently though, SCORPIO managed to destroy the shields and defenses. Some kinda new droids and tactics. She may have succeeded in turning the planet to ash, but Vaylin herself held it off. Alone. With just the Force.” Kanner sounded awed, and Jorgan felt even more so. A single girl holding off an entire fleet? The Eternal Fleet? What was the point of weapons if Force users could do stuff like that? He might become a believer after all. “But it wasn’t completely one-sided. SCORPIO did manage to damage Voss Ka, and killed hundreds of Voss and Gormak. Koth was among the dead.”

Shit. “He was a good man. He’ll be missed.”

“Yes, Sir. Another piece of news though, this one good: the Commander engaged SCORPIO. Or her proxy. I don’t quite understand that part. But what’s important is that he did that… _thing_ again. Like he did when she tricked Arcann into attacking Odessen. Knocked her out. She should be out cold for a bit.”

“That might give us some breathing room,” Jorgan admitted. “How old is this news?”

“Dunno… a bit over a week, maybe two?”

“Then it’s worthless,” Jorgan grunted. “SCORPIO may already be back on her feet. Anything else?”

“Odessen and Dromund Kaas are talking about an alliance. The Sith are throwing their lot in with us!”

Jorgan barked out a laugh. “Well, it’s about time! What about the Republic?”

“No word yet. They haven’t disclosed anything yet. But they might not be in a position to help sir.”

“Why’s that?”

“Shortages. Over three hundred systems, mostly Republic, have rioted. Including Coruscant and Corellia.”

 _Damn!_ “Well, at least it’s a good reason for staying out of the war,” Jorgan seethed. “Better than ‘Let’s just wait and see’!” It should never have gotten this far. But what could anyone have done? Planets like Coruscant were, as Jace Malcom had once put it, one bad month away from their supplies disappearing into thin air. Even the Commander couldn’t have saved all those people. No, there was only one pair of feet all those people’s suffering could be laid at: Arcann’s. Arcann and his damned tributes.

Still, Saresh had certainly done nothing to help the situation!

“Well, all the more reason to end this war once and for all. Once we’ve sorted out Zakuul we can get back to what was important.”

“I really hope so, Sir.”

“Got anything else for me?”

“Yes Sir, just one more. A personal message from your husband, flagged ‘urgent’.” Jorgan had informed his people that any personal mail was to be treated as lesser priority than major events. Even those marked ‘urgent’. She handed him a disc and at his nod, saluted and left. 

He slid the disc into his datapad and listened to what Theron had to say.

 _“Aric, you’re in grave danger,”_ Theron said, looking terrified. _“I can’t give you the full details. You need to leave Zakuul immediately. If you can’t do that, then at least stay the hell away from Akahte!”_

Leave Zakuul? Even if he was willing to abandon this war, he couldn’t get by the blockade now that it had tightened. And how in the stars was he supposed to avoid Nox when they were both in the General’s inner circle of advisors? And they’d got on decently well so far, too. Enough that—combined with Lana and some of the other Sith on odessen— he thought he’d misjudged Sith in general.

“Just what the heck happened?” 

* * *

**Alliance Base,** **  
** **Odessen**

Vaylin barged into the Commander’s office. He, Beniko, and Shan, were in the middle of discussing something when she entered.

“—are on their own right now,” Beniko was saying. “I know it’s not what you need to hear, but—”

Vaylin cleared her throat. “Sorry for just walking right in,” she said. 

“Vaylin,” the Outlander said with a genuine but tired smile. “What can we do for you?”

“Akahte is in pain,” she blurted desperately. “I don’t know what triggered it, but she spends her days in agony. On the other hand…”

“Yes?” he prompted when she went silent.

“Jerre,” Vaylin said unsteadily. “Jerre Kraot. I tried to reach him this morning, and got a local security officer instead. He said that they—Jerre and his entire family that is—have been murdered.”

 _“What?”_ The Jedi barked so loud that she jumped. _“All_ of them? How? When?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “All I know is that they’re gone, and the funeral is in three days. Closed casket.”

All three of the Alliance heads were stunned. 

“It was Actavarus,” Shan said with certainty. “He struck out at _all_ of Risha’s contacts. He’s already been taken care of though, Stede saw to that. But why didn’t we hear about this?”

“Well, we’ve had too much on our plate since then,” Beniko said defensively. “There’s only so many reports even we can handle.”

“We need to find out who’s investigating,” the Outlander said. “Find out what they know…”

Vaylin coughed. Any other day she’d have loved to get payback, but right now, with Akahte in such pain, she had only two warring priorities in her head.

“I need advice,” she pleaded. “And transportation. Do I go to the funeral, or do I go back to Zakuul?”

“You want to head to Zakuul?” The Commander asked at the exact same moment Shan blurted out “You want to head into the Republic?”

They looked at each other, and Shan sighed. “SCORPIO wants you dead. Saresh wants you, _probably_ dead. Besides, Given all the riots, the Republic is locked down. You won’t be able to head to Chandrila without attracting attention. And Zakuul is under blockade, any shuttles we send in _will_ be blown out of the water.”

“I remember,” Vaylin said, barely registering what Shan said about the riots. “I tried to run that blockade once before, remember? But anyway you don’t need to send a shuttle down. Just put me in an escape pod. I can shield myself, like I did Voss. Or I could go to Chandrila.”

The one who broke the silence, surprisingly, was Beniko. “If Captain Kraot is already dead… then you can’t help him. Akahte on the other hand…” Theron and the Commander looked sharply at her. “If you must go, make it to Zakuul. There, at least, the risks may help someone you care for. You can visit Kraot’s grave once everything dies down.” The Outlander nodded slowly. 

Vaylin turned her eyes to him for a second. For just an instant, she thought she could sense…

“Good instinct,” the Outlander grunted, noticing her distraction. “Your Father just spoke up. Said you’re just looking for an excuse to head back to Zakuul, and take the Throne for yourself.”

 _Ha!_ As if she wanted that uncomfortable chair.

“You’re right of course…” he told his wife. “Vaylin, I agree that Zakuul is the best place to go. But I have to insist on an escort, even if it’s a small one.”

“I can ask Roban, maybe he’ll be willing to accompany me.”

“Alright. Speak to Farya as well, among the Zakuul Knights. Also, I notice you still haven’t replaced your lightsaber?”

“Don’t need it.”

“If you say so. I’ll have a shuttle standing by for you.”

Relief flooded through her, relief to be doing _something_ , and relief at being trusted to do it. “Thank you!”

* * *

They were silent for a few minutes after Vaylin left. Then Theron exploded.

 _“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”_ He hollered. 

“I was thinking that she might be able to calm Akahte down,” Lana said softly. “Help her through the grief. If I know Aric, he won’t be leaving Zakuul anytime soon. And he can’t avoid her while they’re both Bolvar’s top advisors. Well, especially since Akahte is technically in command.”

“Or she might push her over the edge!” Theron countered. “In case you’ve forgotten, Vaylin was a crazy, sadistic monster only a few months ago! And don’t tell me she’s left that life behind! The yellow is returned to her eyes, it’s almost exactly the shade it once was.”

“My eyes are yellow too,” Lana said gently. “Last I checked, I haven’t abandoned myself to my wanton slaughter urges.”

“Very funny!” Theron grated. “Except Akahte’s reason to kill Aric is, sadly, much more understandable. Justified, one could say.”

“Which is why we cannot allow the situation to simmer,” Lana retorted. “If we do, then both Akahte and Aric will eventually hit a breaking point. If that happens, she _will_ kill him. But with Vaylin there, who Akahte loves more than life, more than her entire past itself, which she gave up for her…”

“It could be even worse.”

“Or it could be _better_.”

“What, you advocating for the power of love, or something?”

“Yes.”

Theron stared at her for a second, then chuckled. “I never can get used to what a romantic you are.”

“Why not?” Lana asked. “I’ve seen what it’s already done for Vaylin. I know firsthand how it’s helped me and Arro.”

“But those are just the good stories,” Theron pointed out. He was more worried than angry now. “They’re not _all_ roses and chocolate. Satele and Jace. Roban and Jaxo. Senya and… well.”

“I like neither roses nor chocolate anyway,” Lana said lightly. “We have to remember: Akahte spent years helping Vaylin to overcome her pain, overcoming Valkorion. And Vaylin greatly loves her for the gift. She will try to respond in kind, to give her the same gift. And don’t forget: there’s someone _else_ she deeply loves too: Koth. For his sake at least, she will not abandon her progress. No matter how yellow her eyes become again, or how twisted her scowl.”

Theron grew quiet, all three of them did. A few more minutes passed in silence and he broke down, worry for his husband finally pushing its way to the surface beyond all the lofty concerns the galaxy had to throw at them. The little war was all-important to him now. First Arro stepped forwards, taking his friend into his arms, and then Lana joined in, embracing them both.

“He’ll be alright, Theron,” Arro whispered. “I trust Lana with everything. _Everything_.”

“You’re family to me,” Lana added firmly. “I will always look out for you, and everyone you care for.”

Theron snorted. “Don’t make that sound like a threat please.”

* * *

**The Endless Swamps,** **  
** **Zakuul**

Jorgan stood face to face with Nox. For once in his life, he wished he had listened to sense and run. Every cell in his body quaked with fear, for the most powerful Sith in the Galaxy had her eyes full of wroth pointing straight into his soul.

Waves of power rose and fell around her, barely contained by the Twi’lek’s tiny form. Spears of lightning crackled in her fists, deadly and eager. But rather than weapons, she seemed to be using these bolts to open a vast maw in the space above her, a maw that opened up into the darkest heart of the void itself. Screaming souls of the damned called to him, bade him submit to the inevitable. And from that heart unseen eyes of blackest black stared into his mind, threatening to gutter it like a high storm would a candle.

But then she closed the door, barely containing her fury. She fell to her knees, sobbing angrily. It was then that Jorgan noticed that he was himself on his knees, that everyone in the clearing was on their knees too, like they had been begging the primordial being that had been visited upon them to spare their souls. 

All the swamps were silent, but for Darth Nox’s choked sobs, her anguished shrieks. Eventually, she turned and walked away. It was a long time before Jorgan realized that whatever it was he’d done to earn her ire, he’d been spared. 

For now.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Book 4, Chapter 10: The Utopiocracy  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/69101373


	14. The Thaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous Chapter: Book 4, Chapter 14: The Binding  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/70165158

* * *

**The Endless Swamp,** **  
** **Zakuul**

It was two hours before dawn. Her watch done, Captain Kanner made for her tent to catch some shuteye—uneasy though it would be—before it was time to move. A thick cloud of mist emerged from between her chattering teeth. She half suspected that she was frozen solid.

Damn this nonsensical weather! Zakuul only froze closer up to the poles, and in the higher reaches of mountain ranges. The team had packed cold weather gear just in case they were forced into those regions, but they were supposed to be in the tropics right now! In fact, staying warm at all was a huge challenge nowadays, given how frostbitten the trees were, requiring a lot of drying before they could catch fire. More than once, they’d been forced to use precious fuel to jump start their fires. A few particularly frigid nights, the Sith Lord had been forced to start the fires herself, with that eerie lightning from her fingertips.  _ Winter. In the tropics! _ She chuckled humorlessly. It was something she did frequently to cope with the absurdity.

The scouts claimed that the frost only extended for about a kilometer in each direction, and that beyond that radius, the climate was as hot as it ought to be over here. That the ice they left behind hissed and splintered as the ground behind them suddenly thawed in the tropical warmth.

How was such a thing possible? Was it a new kind of weapon being tested? No. Kanner suspected it was something else. This miserable weather had turned against them that same day that Sith Lord had stared down at the Major, with him and the whole camp quaking in fear around them. Most had shivered well into the night, and woken up to shivers for a different reason.

Ever since that evening, Kanner had spent her nights reliving her brother’s grisly death on Balmorra. She woke up sweating and shaking, and feeling the same deep sense of loss that she  _ thought _ she had come to terms with years ago. In fact, many voices moaned out in the night, including the Sith Lord herself. Not the good kind of moans, too.

_ The friggin blasted Force again! _

It felt like whenever there was a problem, you could bet that the Force was behind it somehow. The past fifty years of conflict had essentially been an extension of an ancient civil war between Jedi and Sith. The Force had been used to hurl huge slabs of stone and blasts of lightning upon thousands of battlegrounds across the galaxy, and billions of ordinary soldiers had been crushed underfoot. On both sides. That last part wasn’t something Kanner had admitted to herself until she had joined the Alliance, worked alongside former Imps.

But they were just as much victims as she and her comrades were. More, in fact, since the Sith openly ran things in the Empire. The Jedi at least pretended not to be bossing you around. And they were a lot nicer too. And they cried along with you at funerals. Laughed when you shared old academy stories.

With very few exceptions, common soldiers could not stand against a fully-trained Force user who had taken the field. Hundreds often died to bring down a single one. Most people nowadays lived in fear of them.

For all that, if the enemy had WMDs, you needed to have one too. But imagine a world without them! What would the galaxy be like today, she wondered, without people who could use the Force? At the very least, she was certain that she wouldn’t be freezing her eyeballs out fighting a war on a world she had no stake in protecting. 

Every day for these past dozen or so days, she grudgingly trudged with the rest of the group over miles of frozen mud and frozen rivers. Everyone else in the camp was just as miserable as herself, some more so. It wasn’t uncommon to hear hysterical fits of nervous laughter or sobbing from at least a dozen people every day. The only plus side so far was that, somehow, no one had died yet. But that would change swiftly if this continued any longer.

Just as she was about to shrug off her thick coat, a voice hissed on the radio about an unknown group approaching. Cursing, she picked her rifle back up from the rack and darted back out into the icy night. She and about a dozen others converged around the sentry who had sent out the message, including Major Jorgan. The Sith Lord was already there, somehow shaken out of her stupor and staring into the swamp in disbelief. Like everyone else around her, she was also bundled up to ward off the cold.

Ten vaguely humanoid figures detached themselves from the fog, hooded cloaks and shadows obscuring what the mist did not. Seven hefted staves that Kanner recognized as the shafts of Lightsaber pikes, one carried an oversized rifle, and the ninth held a blaster cannon, but also had a blaster rifle slung across his back. The tenth was smaller than the rest, and bore no weapons, but the eyes—which shone a feline yellow in the fog—promised a painful lesson to anyone who thought this one was an easy target.

“Identify yourselves!” Kanner called out.

“I’m Colonel Roban Queens, formerly of Havoc Squad!” the leader replied, lowering the barrel of his cannon. “Is this the HQ convoy?”

“Colonel Queens?” Kanner breathed disbelievingly. Indeed she recognized the voice, the hard face. He was a damn legend! “You’re  _ here?” _

“Looks like I am. This the HQ, or not?”

“It is, Sir!” she replied, stowing away her rifle and waving the newcomers on. “Come on, hurry inside! Let’s get you out of this cold!”

“That would be welcome,” the small figure said through chattering teeth. “It got cold  _ really _ fast about a klick out. Who knew there could be  _ snow _ in the  _ swamps?” _

“I’m Captain Renata Kanner,” Kanner introduced herself. “Current second-in-command of the new Havoc Squad. It’s such an honor to finally meet yo…” her words trailed off as the group got close enough for her to finally see yellow eyes’ face. She’d assumed it was a Sith, thanks to those burning yellow eyes, but she knew that face, and it belonged to someone far worse. 

_I should’a recognized her voice._   
_“It’s Vaylin!”_

* * *

Roban managed to keep the guards from opening fire on them, but it was a near thing. There was actually a brief standoff, as he stood pointing his gun at, of all things, a few members of Havoc Squad. It took threats and diplomacy in equal measure, but it ultimately came down to Jorgan and General Bolevar finally being brought to the scene.

For whatever reason, the message informing them about Vaylin being part of the incoming support team hadn’t been properly decrypted, leaving the commanders being caught completely unaware. It was a good thing Arro had had the foresight to suggest that Vaylin bring him along; his legend had been the only thing that had stopped Captain Kanner from opening fire. Without him here, an unnecessary fight would have broken out, possibly leaving a few dead.

“Close call, eh Sir?”

Roban turned around to see Jorgan approaching him. He grinned at the Cathar. “You don’t have to call me ‘Sir’ anymore, Major.”

“I’ll  _ always _ call you “Sir’,” his old Second-in-Command saluted him, “And you will always be my Commanding Officer.” Both men abandoned the crisp military bearing and embraced, laughing and thumping each other on the back.

“Hello old friend! Sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding.”

“Eh, it was a brief, hurried thing, no laces or frills. Worthy of a soldier I’d say. And  _ I’m _ sorry I couldn’t bail you out of Klatooine, or come visit you afterwards. Things got so hectic really fast after Zakuul invaded. We had to be everywhere at once, without even enough ships to get us there.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I got about seven million transfer orders while I was holed up in that bunker that I’d have loved to follow if only they’d send someone to pick me up!”

“Ha! Leave it to a soldier to try and make light of such a traumatic experience!” Jorgan’s smirk slipped. “How are you holding up?”

“The same,” Roban grunted. “A bit better maybe. The therapy helped some, but I can never get those days out of my head… they were endless. Sometimes I wake up still thinking I’m trapped in that bunker, and my days since then have been just a dream. I can still see their faces, Aric, falling apart as they decayed… the smells, the sound of flies and rats… I can always hear it all. Just out of the edge of my hearing. Nothing I fill the air with can completely drown them out.”

“Then why’d you come back, Sir? If anyone deserved a quiet retirement, it was you.”

Roban turned to look at the tent that Vaylin was in, with her Sith girlfriend. “Quiet retirement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. The quiet just gave me too much time with my thoughts. Safe to say, it didn’t suit me, not without something to occupy my mind. When Koth turned up on our quiet backwater, I jumped at the chance for something to break the routine. Thought I’d keep ‘em company, see some new sights. And then Voss happened. Koth was killed. And I found that I actually  _ liked _ Vaylin. Suddenly, I needed to be there for Vaylin.”

Aric gave a long, low whistle. “She means that much to you?”

“She does. You should’a seen her, man. Even with her mind regressed she was so wise, so compassionate. So full of life and cheer. After Voss, her hard edges began to show again—I guess Koth was too important a factor for her healing. With him killed like that, it lost some of its potency. But even with that she didn’t go back to what she was as High Justice. She gives me hope.”

“And now she’s here on Zakuul,” Jorgan grunted. “To help the rebels.”

“To help Nox first. But yes. She means to help the rebels too. In Koth’s memory. She really did love him, called him ‘Brother’.”

“That’s… something I’d have loved to see,” the Cathar admitted. Around them, the camp had fallen silent, and some of the people were openly trying to listen in. 

“Come to think of it,” Roban said, rubbing his jaw. “Gather round the campfire, everyone! Anyone who’s heard stories about Koth Vortena, let’s all share them! He was a great soldier, and a hero of Zakuul. We should all honor his memory, as Vaylin does!”

* * *

Caradha hissed in the Khroovan version of a nervous giggle. She was now  _ almost _ certain that Vaylin wasn’t about to kill her for her biting criticism from a hundred years ago. In fact, she suspected that the Princess might not even remember. She certainly seemed like a different person than the one Caradha had beheld on a few occasions. Her smile held none of its playful cruelty, but in her eyes there was now a deeply held sorrow. She reserved most of her attention for the Grand Praetor Akahte. That the two were lovers had long been whispered on the streets of Zakuul, but it surprised Caradha to see just how much affection there actually was in that relationship. Both women appeared visibly relieved to be in sight of each other, and the temperature in the camp had dropped since. 

Or rather, it had risen. 

The freeze following the Grand Praetor’s unexplained falling out with Major Jorgan had finally thawed, and the temperature was much closer to normal than it had been. The people crying out in the night had also reduced. There was a sense of hope and relief in the air now, mingled in with the tension. For though the cloud hadn’t passed completely, it had pulled back considerably, with shafts of wintry light coming through. And that was almost literal as the thaw itself. Things were still a bit tense, but looking up. Honestly, anything was an improvement now.

As she emerged from her tent, she saw Captain Kanner getting out from hers. 

“Morning Captain! Did you sleep alright last night?”

“Yeah, actually!” the human responded with a nervous laugh. “Dreamed of my brother again, but it was… a nicer dream, at least. He was teaching me to swim while my fiance insisted that I was too drunk to be out of bed, and I got so annoyed, I flew away.”

Caradha laughed. “Dreams are strange.”

“Better than nightmares,” the other replied fervently, a sentiment Caradha agreed with.

“So,” she asked eagerly. “Have you heard anything? Why was the Grand Praetor so angry?”

The human hesitated. “Well… It’s not my place to tell you. Major Jorgan wanted to make an announcement about it before we started moving today.”

Something about her tone set Caradha’s teeth on edge. “What is the matter?”

“Well, it’s just…” the Captain struggled. “I can’t describe it. I don’t know how this will get resolved. You might understand later, when you’ve heard.”

With the Captain's reluctant warning echoing in her head, Caradha ate the usual breakfast of a nutrient bar along with some dried fruit, silently wondering what today would bring as the sounds of anxious laughter and hopeful conversation played out around her.

* * *

As the Captain had told her, Major Jorgan ordered everyone to assemble at 0800 after breakfast. They gathered in a loose circle outside the camp, with Jorgan and Grand Praetor Akahte standing in the center, both looking thoroughly miserable. Caradha leaned against a rocky outcrop and waited for the announcement to begin.

“Good morning everybody,” Lady Akahte said gruffly. “I finally managed to tell the Major what had been troubling me this past fortnight.”

“And it really was a doozy,” Jorgan picked up the thread. “Here’s what happened. By now, most of the Zakuulans in this camp are aware that the Sith Empire and Galactic Republic have been at war for decades before we’d even heard of Zakuul. Around fourteen years ago—damn, has it already been that long?—I was part of a Black Ops operation codenamed ‘Fridge Raiders’. Our mission was to assassinate a Sith Lord named Darth Mekhis of the Dark Council. Intelligence put him on a Space Station orbiting the desert world Tatooine. They believed that he was setting up a lab to experiment on refugees and slaves. We arrived to find a large population of slaves guarded by a squad of troops, and heard whispers that a Dark Lord of the Council was due to arrive any moment. Naturally, we took this as confirmation. We couldn’t risk rescuing the slaves, as this was our one shot at killing one of the most evil geniuses in the Empire. So, we rigged it with Class-A detonators. The timer malfunctioned and it went off minutes before the Sith Lord came aboard. But everyone else on the station was killed. Including the hundred or so slaves on the station. Thing is, our intel was rotten. It wasn’t Mekhis who was to arrive at the station, but a different Dark Council member. Darth Nox, born as a slave, and who had arranged for her family to be brought to this station for a reunion. A family that included her young son.”

“Darth Nox, of course, was what  _ I _ was once called,” Lady Akahte whispered, soft as a viper but still heard by all in the circle. The few who had not known that fact inhaled sharply. “For months afterward I was left in a daze, barely able to function. A part of me wanted revenge, of course, and that was why I found out as much as I could about the operation. That was how I came to know that the one who led the team was a Cathar named ‘Aric’. But in the years since, I did my best to leave my past and my pain behind. Until an offhand comment by an old friend reminded me.”

“So there you have it,” Jorgan said, looking thoroughly miserable. “That’s what got the Sith so upset these past days. That’s what caused her to all but lose control of her power, drowning us in an unseasonal winter. And I can’t say I blame her. What I did that day… I’ve done a lot of things for the Republic that I’m not proud of. This, though? Mass murder of innocents? This is a war crime, by any measure. And I am willing to be held accountable for them. I’m kinda relieved, to be honest. Living with this pain… it’s been hard. I am… I am a war criminal. There’s not even a need for a trial. I readily acknowledge my actions, and am willing to pay for them. Whatever happens, the Alliance will not pursue any further action. And you guys as well: Please do not hate the Sith for it.”

“She has a name,” Vaylin called angrily. “And she’s a Sith no longer!”

Lady Akahte’s own glare only lasted a moment, and her anger returned to grief. “What is the point?” She asked. “They’re dead. He’s dead. My little Sef... Killing you… it won’t even make me feel better.” 

Even Caradha could tell she did not believe it herself. She finally understood. It made sense. Every fact, but one; why hadn’t she killed Major Jorgan already? What stayed her hand?

Recalling Kanner’s discomfort, she suspected that not even she would blame the Grand Praetor if she sought revenge.

“You came to Zakuul to help us, asking nothing in return,” Lady Akahte breathed. “You have fought and bled for us. How can I kill you while we still need you? How can I kill you afterwards, after having been your... ally?”

Caradha considered that. It did not escape her that the Twi’lek counted herself as Zakuulan now.

“Beside, this situation is hardly unique,” she continued, barely maintaining coherence. “How many soldiers, how many Jedi and Sith have killed innocent bystanders? Why do I deserve my revenge, and not some poor orphan who was left to beg in the streets after losing everybody? And… and when does it end? If I kill you, will someone come seeking  _ my _ blood in turn? Or do I just kill myself  _ now, _ coz there’s undoubtedly many people whose loved ones  _ I _ have killed too... When does the cycle stop? War… that’s the real culprit… can we just kill war itself and have done with it?”

She was babbling now, her eyes crazed, and broke down completely. Vaylin surged forward to hold her as she collapsed on the floor. 

“For what it’s worth, the Outlander had some queer notions of doing the same thing,” she said with a mirthless bark of laughter. “Fighting war itself. Or trying to. I’ve seen how hard he works… I could almost believe that he might stand a chance.”

General Bolevar grunted loudly and took the stage. “This is all well and good, but what now? We need to resolve this issue as soon as possible. I’m sorry, Lady Akahte, but  _ saying _ you’re not looking for justice is clearly not enough for you. And by that I mean the camp still feels like a raincloud waiting to burst. This situation is leaving the camp in jeopardy. We need to deal with this.”

“I have a suggestion, if I may,” Vaylin offered. At the General’s nod, she continued. “I can help her control the worst of it, as she once helped me. But there’s more; instead of just suppressing the side-effects of her powers, we might as well use them for a strike. Make it a big, ambitious target: Imagine an unseasonal winter hampering all those droids right before we ambush them! We could do a lot of damage with even a small force. If there’s one weakness SCORPIO has consistently shown, she never fails to fail at adapting to the Force. Her best solution was a super-quick, deadly droid that your Commander, Arro, tore apart in seconds. It’s meant to face people like me and Akahte in melee. Perhaps dodge some rubble or lightning. It cannot stand before either of us if we really get serious. An entire army of them couldn’t. Send us ahead. We will take the horizon for you.”

“And  _ I _ would be happy to handle smaller threats for them,” Colonel Queens spoke up. 

“So would we,” Knight Khoarad spoke up, and the other Knights who had accompanied Vaylin also nodded in agreement beside him. “We all would! This is what we signed up for. To fight for both Zakuul, and for the Imperial Family. When we accompanied Princess Vaylin from Odessen, we were all greatly pleased with how much she has changed. We would face an endless horde to serve her. As her personal guard.”

The General looked at each one of them in turn, then grinned. “Well, well! Looks like we have a new formation in our arsenal now. A Horizon Guard. So be it, you will usher in the dawn that breaks upon the darkness. You will be the ones to soften up SCORPIO’s defenses wherever we strike, and so bring morning to a whole planet that cries for salvation. And as it happens, we do have a nice target in mind. Let’s go and kick some metal butt!”

* * *

  
  



	15. Preparations

* * *

**Odessen Base, Odessen**

Lana Beniko didn’t think she’d ever get used to how quiet Odessen Base was becoming. The Alliance she’d helped found now numbered in the tens of thousands, not counting droids, support personnel, or even the early settlers of the newly colonized planet. But you could never tell that from the emptiness of the base. And Alliance HQ wasn’t even that big, really.

It was rare these days for more than a hundred people in a single day to be walking these corridors.

This was how heavily mobilized the Alliance Military was, fighting SCORPIO’s Empire on all fronts. They were stretched perilously thin. The only defense the base had against an all-out assault was the  _ Gravestone _ , which was effectively a lightsaber blade without a hilt.

But even if the Alliance was all gathered in one single force, there was little hope of resisting SCORPIO’s legions once her rise to power was complete. All out offense was deemed the best defense.

Find SCORPIO’s factories. Sniff out her covert operations. Disrupt them. Destroy them if possible. Force her to relocate and restart production. Disrupt her active occupations, make them costly enough that lots of her own army was forced to deal with it instead of fighting abroad, 

All the while, hunt for her new Headquarters, her new Throne. For once they had the location, they could storm it, and take it for themselves. This was the way to victory. 

Unfortunately, SCORPIO knew it. She was a powerful intelligence, after all. That SCORPIO had been planted with a cocktail of viruses—courtesy of Theron, T7-01, and Lana herself—was of small comfort to the Alliance, but perhaps their only saving grace in a game of wits with such a powerful mind. It increased the gap in her reasoning, making her erratic and more prone to mistakes. It also made her paranoid, afraid of being betrayed the way she herself had betrayed. Perhaps she would one day recognize the viruses for what they were, for self-improvement was her self-declared mission. 

That was another reason they were on a clock. This war needed to be short. If they didn’t dethrone her in a year, they had already lost.

This did not, however, stop Lana and Arro from making long-term plans too. Pouring every last erg of energy into a short term sprint would leave them too exhausted for the longer marathon that they needed to run afterwards. The recent uprisings on all of those worlds proved it.

Calls had even sprung up—and Lana was certain where the first whispers had been sounded—of raiding the agricultural worlds for their stockpiles of food. If they didn’t get enough food soon, and a steady supply of it, all law and order throughout the galaxy would break down, followed by hundreds of millions starving to death. Beyond that, the galaxy had been at near-constat war for almost half a century now, with no end in sight. Soon, schoolyards would be raided for more troops. Civilization itself was at stake. 

Beyond the unending needs of a galaxy in perpetual peril however, the couple also had a few  _ personal _ dreams they wished to pursue. It was for one of these that Lana was scheduled to visit her doctor today.

* * *

“... so I was getting sleepy, and decided to call it a night. I get off the couch and turn off the screen, and hear this upset ‘miaow’. I look around and Tibbs is giving me this look that plainly says ‘Hey, I was watching that!’” Doctor Modal exclaimed, as she scribbled down a reading on her notepad.

Lana laughed heartily. “Regis is much the same. Cats are really such an assertive lot!” 

“I agree! More companions than pets. And snippy ones, at that!”

Lana was lying down on the medical bed wearing only her smallclothes, inside a tube where a scanner slowly took various readings of her body. The Doctor peered at the readings, noting them at regular intervals, and sometimes throwing in a comment or two about it, but mostly she just chatted away about inconsequential albeit interesting things. 

“You know, most women show some minor symptoms when they go off these meds. Acne, cramping, heavy mood issues, rougher periods... I’m glad to see you’re adjusting so well.”

“It must be my diet. And my exercise regimen.”

“See that’s another thing,” the Doctor said. “Where do you get the extra hours for eating and sleeping, much less exercise? You’re in excellent shape. You and that husband of yours. And some others too, of course. Always at work, always in some meeting or other. Always looking after the galaxy. Like it’s some oversized toddler. And you still have time to—somewhat at least—look after yourselves!”

“We use the Force, of course.”

“That’s not how the Force works!... is it?”

Lana laughed again in response. “It  _ has _ been hectic, I’ll admit that.”

“And on top of that, you’re now trying to add an  _ actual _ baby to the mix,” she said disbelievingly. “Or more than one!”

“Yep! We’re  _ gluttons _ for punishment.”

“I’ve got to ask though. Why now? Why not wait until SCORPIO is beaten?”

“Well,” Lana grimaced. “Once SCORPIO is beaten, there will be another problem. And another. Like you said: galaxy is an overgrown toddler. And Arro will be facing each problem as it arises. And so will I.”

“What?” the Doctor looked in askance. “You couldn’t consider leaving him? Living out a quiet life? Or a different one at least? Is it no way but his way?”

“I did consider those options, actually. Decided that I didn’t want any of them. Besides—” Lana smiled. “—he offered to abandon his dream if I wanted something else. If I really had other plans, I’d have taken him up on his offer.”

“Oh,” Doctor Modal nodded somewhat confusedly. “Another thing I’ve noticed. You never seem to consider the possibility that he’s lying to you, or thinks you’re lying to him.” Lana may have just been imagining things, but she could have sworn that the Doctor put particular emphasis on that second part. Did she really come across as a liar? Or was it her own insecurities again? She had not lied to an ally since Rishi, since her first, simple wedding ceremony, where she had decided to leave behind all traces of Cipher Nine forever.

“We can’t lie to each other, Doctor. This time, it really is the Force.”

“Ah, I see,” she nodded. “I take it it’s the ‘Force bonds’ I’ve read about…? I must confess, I can’t even imagine such a thing. Or feel comfortable with it. My head is just for me, you know? I wouldn’t give up my privacy for anyone!”

“I know what you mean,” Lana said. “But when it finally happened to me, I felt like I was waking up for the first time. Never even wanted to go back to before. The Force is always like that, you know? It opens up new possibilities, and when you think of them as an abstract, they unsettle you. But when you experience them for yourself, you never want to go back. If this was taken away… I think most Force users would suddenly feel very vulnerable!”

“If you say so,” the Doctor said, shaking her head. “Personally, that sounds like addiction to me.” 

“Is it addiction to be accustomed to your sight and hearing? Or to having wings instead of hands? How would a bird feel if it woke up as a humanoid someday, with the ability to hold but not to fly?”

“Point taken.” 

The machine beeped again, this time with a note finality, and the Doctor pressed a button that rolled the bed out of the tube. “Well Lana, the news is good. You can start trying as soon as next week.”

“That soon? Wonderful!” Lana said. If things went smoothly, one week from now would be when she, Arro, and Theron returned from Dromund Kaas, where they were heading to sign a formal agreement. This would give her something to look forward to with the dread of returning to Dromund Kaas looming ahead.

* * *

**The Force Enclave, Odessen**

Sana-Rae wasn’t surprised to see Lady Beniko arrive exactly on time. The soft spoken Sith was very punctual. It took a real emergency to shake up her schedule. She only wished others—herself included—could be as precise as this human. 

“Lady Beniko, welcome. I hope you are feeling well today?”

“Yes, I am, thank you, Sana-Rae. And you as well, I trust? You wished to speak to me?”

“Yes.” Sana-Rae reached for the pouch on the table. “We have tested it, as you requested, and we do not believe there will be any side-effects if you wish to go through with the procedure. It will also do exactly as you wish; it will boost your vitality, extend your life. Even your youth.”

Lady Beniko’s lips twitched in a smile. “Such as it is.”

“But it will not grant you immortality.”

“I’m not seeking immortality, thank you very much,” Lana accepted the pouch. She emptied its contents onto her palm; two red gems about half the size of her little finger. “Only my wellness. And a bit of extra time, so that I’m not completely sacrificing all of my days for the Galaxy.”

Sana-Rae nodded. It was a shame this crystal was so rare. Its properties could treat many ills. But that was not the case, sadly. Her visions had told her, in no uncertain terms, that Lady Beniko needed to have these two, and that both this fact and her intended purpose needed to remain secret. Visions with such obvious intent were rare, and never,  _ ever _ to be ignored unless you wanted to court catastrophe.

Taka-Den’s decision three hundred years ago had proved that.

And so, she said nothing, and pretended this series of meetings had never occurred.

* * *

Hylo had the floor—she was  _ standing on the table _ , actually—with her most pleased cheshire cat smile shining on her face. “The Kaminoans are almost done with the first ‘harvest’!” she announced happily. “My supply ships will be ready to begin bringing in the first shipments in a few days, and from here we can load Republic and Imperial ships. Should be enough to feed everyone—and I do mean  _ everyone _ —for a few weeks. Almost two months, if they ration it. By which time the next shipment might be ready.”

“And is that estimate counting the people who are... a little better off at the moment?” Theron asked. “Like those on agricultural worlds? Or systems that don’t need a gazillion tons of food every day to avoid starvation?”

“Barely, but the majority of them have just enough to last the year anyway,” Hylo answered. “But fear not! The Kaminoans are ramping up production, so they should be able to meet demand by the time that happens! If we can keep everyone fed on half-rations for four months, we can return everyone to a more full diet.”

“How is that good news?” Admiral Aygo asked. “Half rations for four months? People will still starve.”

“Much better than what they’re getting now,” their guest noted. Arro hoped he was hiding his discomfort well. Darth Malora, head of the Sphere of Scientific Advancement, had volunteered to join them on Odessen, and aid the Science Enclave as an advisor. She had performed such extensive genetic modification on herself that she appeared to be a hybrid of several different species, but that wasn’t what Arro found unsettling about her.

There was something in her gaze that sent chills down his spine. Every time she looked at him, he felt like he was a test subject who had been administered some subtle chemical, and she was closely observing the progression of his symptoms. He had met the evil genius stereotype before—heck, his very first true Sith enemy had been a brilliant scientist. But never before one so immersed in science that they treated nearly everything like an experiment. She certainly had a keen mind, though, if a bit hyper focused. That alone was worth her spot on the Dark Council.

“I am impressed,” the Sith continued. “Here I thought this was a purely military outfit, but you’re practically a new government, aren’t you?”

“We do have long term plans, that’s true,” Lana said. Arro was awed to notice that she was not the least bit intimidated by the other Sith. Truly, his wife was far braver than he was. And far more valuable to the galaxy. Without her… well, without her he’d be dead in a carbonite tomb on Zakuul. Or crushed to death under the waves of Manaan. Or hanging from a tree on Tython. 

The only thing he had on her, truly had, was his melee skills. 

_ Stop it, you! _ She Sent him. He could feel her amusement behind the scolding. Outwardly, her face remained impassive. He hoped his did too. Stars, what was wrong with him today? Was it more signs of his unease around Malora?

All around the table, he saw that he wasn’t the only affected one. Theron, Jasme, Admiral Aygo, and Commodore Pardeck were obviously discomfited, with Sana-Rae openly nervous. Gault and Hylo Visz, however, seemed just as unruffled as Lana was. Doctor Oggurobb was gruff rather than uncomfortable, disapproving of her ruthlessly cold methods.

“The galaxy has been at war for over fifty years now,” Lana continued. “And we’ve seen signs—from both Republic and Sith—that the bloodletting will not stop once the Eternal Empire was defeated. Initially we began to settle Odessen so that anyone who joined us could have the option of staying on, of not having to go back to killing each other.”

“Yes, yes, all very interesting!” Malora said, waving her hand dismissively. “But what fascinates me is the science of it all. Using cloning methods to produce enough food for a whole galaxy in a matter of months… I would very much like to visit this facility for myself.”

“No,” Arro said firmly. “Cloning is a science that is too easy to pervert. We’re keeping the facility secret so that it can be used to feed people, not war. Regardless, we now have to convince both the Republic and the Empire to send their ships to a neutral location to pick up the food. Probably on different days so that there’s lesser chances of a battle in orbit. I’ll have to issue a statement to news channels.”

“I’ll make the calls to the media,” Lana said. “I trust you can write your own speech?”

“I’m not going for a grand speech here, just an announcement. So yeah. Think I can handle it.”

“Good. We can schedule it for four hours from now. 1600.”

“Sounds good. So what’s next on the agenda?”

“Report from Zakuul,” Aygo said with a grimace. “The camp is… well, it’s in the icy grip of fear. Almost literally. There’s a chill in the air that freezes the mud, and Zakuul’s never seen anything like it. Especially since it’s so… localized. Just a short radius around the HQ caravan. People are eating and sleeping badly too. Loss of appetite, night terrors, nerves. Major Jorgan is of course terrified, but he has sent us repeated requests to stand trial. Lady Akahte, however, has refused—so far. She says that she can’t be so short-sighted, that millions of lives are at stake. But her grief isn’t letting her move on the way she’d like to. And to be honest, I don’t blame her.”

The details of the Phar Cresh Station bombing, and Jorgan’s role in it, had become common knowledge.

“Also, Vaylin’s arrival did calm things down a little, but raised its own share of problems. People still remember what she was. Still, the situation seems to be defused, if only temporarily.”

“Keep a close eye on the situation for me, would you?” Arro requested. “If Akahte is about to crack, we need to know.”

“Roger that, Commander.”

“On to our next topic of discussion,” Lana said. “Our upcoming visit to Dromund Kaas, and the treaty we’re going to be signing. Empress Acina has already given her word for full cooperation in the war against SCORPIO, but this will make our agreement formal. We will receive an additional inflow of resources to aid in operations. We will also receive full military, economical, and technological support.” Darth Malora acknowledged this with an impatient wave, still looking like she wanted another attempt at persuading Command to allow her to tour the facility. “In addition, we have already indicated to them that we have plans beyond just the war for the Eternal Throne, and she is willing to discuss the details, as well as the Empire’s role in it.”

“I’m still quite surprised that the Sith would so readily aid us while the Republic still dithers,” Aygo grunted.

“Benefits of having power consolidated among so few people,” Arro shrugged. “Whereas in the Republic, each additional Senator is yet another person to persuade.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves Commander,” Theron argued. “Saresh holds sole rulership of the Republic. If she wanted to do it, she could throw in their lot with us in no time flat. If she’s not moving quickly, it means she’s plotting. But what? What could she possibly be up to? Certainly not trying to curry SCORPIO’s favor.”

“Allying with SCORPIO favors no one,” Lana said skeptically.

“Ah, but if you’re Saresh, you’ll look at how allying with her might help you rid the Galaxy of the SIth Empire once and for all, perhaps weakening SCORPIO in the process. Or give her some more power, maybe temporary immunity from whatever SCORPIO plans for organics. Saresh does consider herself a master strategist, even if history has proven that it is not so.”

“How did she come to power anyway?” Arro grumbled. “She really messed up on Taris. That should have been the end of her career, instead she used it as a springboard for deposing Jenarus and taking his place. I really hope more schemers like her don’t manage to subvert the democratic process as thoroughly as she has, though I suspect it will happen all too often.” He shook his head. “Regardless, I don’t want to give up on the Republic, if only for the people. They are starving, and they need what we’re giving away for free.”

“In most people’s experience, there’s no such thing as ‘free’, Commander,” Hylo smiled. “Usually the cost is a different one, more subtle, and usually more insidious.”

“True enough.”

“With any luck, your broadcast today should get the people on your side,” Lana said. “If enough of them call for it—and they should do so readily enough, given these desperate times—the Senate, and Saresh, will have no choice but to accept our relief aid. Even if there’s hell to pay later.”

There would be hell to pay, Arro thought unhappily. But more for the ruling classes than the common folk. He didn’t like it, but it needed to be done. Otherwise…

An image rose unbidden to his mind: a world that should have been green and lush being set ablaze, of an entire world’s population crying out all at once in the Force before their voices were silenced forever. Of his soul crying as well, adding its anguish to the cacophony. And a monster of unbridled vengeance bursting to life in his chest. Never again.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Book 4, Chapter 15: New Normals  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265497/chapters/71966376


	16. Return to Dromund kaas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Book 4, Chapter 16: Nightmare

* * *

**Dromund Kaas**

Arro was uncomfortable for the entire flight to Dromund Kaas, and made no effort to hide it. The last time he had come here, it was to kill the Emperor. In fact, he had visited the Capital of the Sith Empire frequently when he was twenty-one, though only few knew about it. Each time, he had—under the influence of the Sith Emperor—killed scores of people.

In fact, in his time as Lord Trykhgar he had killed over five thousand Imperials, two thousand of whom had been civilians. Although his mind had not been his own, he still remembered their horrified screams as he hunted them down.

_ I’d always wondered. Why didn’t the Emperor ever disclose my identity? _ He wasn’t addressing Valkorion, but the latter chose to respond anyway.

_ “Lord Scourge convinced Me that it would be fitting to deny you a face. To have you remembered as a mindless animal with no origin. By the time I realized his true, treacherous intentions, My mind was completely occupied with designs, My own and Darth Baras’. Among My people, no one else knew about you, not even My Hand.” _

_ “Well, thank goodness for Lord Scourge,”  _ Arro responded.  _ “I should thank him when I get back.” _

_ “In any case, I feel it is better this way. That My greatest nemesis not be associated with that rabid hound I’d once reduced you to.” _

_ “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? You are a monster! No matter what face You choose to wear!” _

_ “A monster… or a  _ god _! Understandable that mortals, even exceptional ones such as yourselves, cannot tell the difference.” _

_ “That’s easy. Gods endure, monsters die. You have, repeatedly. What You are is more poltergeist than immortal.” _

Valkorion’s rage simmered at the back of his head.  _ “Careful,  _ BOY.  _ Content though I may be to wait out your life before My return, that doesn’t mean I won’t interfere before then. Yes, would you be as defiant if I had a knife at your little Sith’s throat?” _

_ “She’d be disappointed if I was anything else,” _ Arro snapped back.  _ “Now shut up. It’s bad enough without You trying to remind me of the ‘good old days’.”  _

_ “I have to admit, you were right. I preferred it when we both pretended we could share the same space.” _

_ “Knowing You as I do, that was my mistake. After everything You’ve ever done, I shouldn’t have allowed You to get comfortable in here. It took You allowing Voss to be invaded, for Koth to die… he used to Look up to You!” _

_ “In that, you are to blame more than I! It is not My job to be alert for you!” _

_ “You’re right. It’s not. That was my fault. But You  _ could  _ have spoken up. You didn’t. You preferred to watch me stumble. Just so that I could be taught a  _ LESSON.”

_ “Bah!” _

_ “Why are You displeased? I heard what You had to say. ‘Take my job seriously.’ And I will. That is why we can’t go back to the old status quo.” _

The specter of Valkorion vanished in a huff, and time—which had dilated during this little discussion—returned to normal. 

“Dropping out of Hyperspace,” Theron reported. “In three, two, one.” The blue of hyperspace became a starburst, and then resolved into realspace. As Arro beheld Dromund Kaas again, his earlier discomfort returned. “Will you be alright?” Theron asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Different Empire, different monarch. Should be a different experience too. Hopefully.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I Sense turbulence ahead,” Arro confessed.

“Lucky for you, that may be nothing more than the weather,” Theron nodded at the viewport, in which flashes of lightning could be seen all over the planet. “And not… you know. A figurative storm.”

“One can hope.”

“I’m uneasy too,” Lana admitted. “I never liked this place. Like Arro, I’m hoping things really have changed.”

The descent really was a turbulent one, but that did not dispel Arro’s sense of worry. Their shuttle was cleared to land in the Citadel itself, and Arro couldn’t help but stare. It was a vast and imposing structure, a particularly steep ziggurat. Buttresses supported the central tower from the sides, an ironic reminder that the stronger any central power was, the more support it required.

“First time on Dromund Kaas?” Theron asked, and Arro turned to see him looking much less apprehensive.

“No, not really,” he admitted reluctance. “What about you?”

“Some jobs for the SIS,” Theron said. “Mostly during the Cold War years. There was this one mission I had to ensure that neither Darth Angral, nor his cohorts had sent any details about the Desolator weapon back to the Sith. Or any other secret they stole from us. Another time I had to find out what happened to Master Braga’s strike team. But almost right after I landed, I got reassigned because the war had started again.”

“Oh…” Arro said in a small voice. “How much did you ever hear about Braga’s team?”

“Only that they got captured. Some were killed, some imprisoned. Some turned.”

“... I was on the team, Theron.”

“What?” a look of total astonishment and shame crossed Theron’s face. “I had no idea! I shouldn’t have brought it up...”

“It’s not something I can talk about, even now.”

“I understand that, but…” and here his eyes darted a bit to Lana, who winced. Theron flinched slightly, as though the glance had been involuntary. “But I needed to know. Considering that we were coming here, I mean.”

“I’m sorry Theron,” Arro apologized. “I should have told you.”

“Look… I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you went through when you were here… this isn’t the standard ‘Hey, I needed to know!’ situation.”

_ You have no idea. _

“Will you be alright?”

“I should be. I came here once again, to kill the Emperor. I was fine then.”  _ Though I had forgotten my time as Trykhgar during that visit. _

“Ah, right. Silly me. But that wasn’t at the Citadel itself, right? It was at the Dark Temple.”

“Yeah. But we had to land near the Citadel, because the only shuttles cleared to approach the Dark Temple were docked there. We used Scourge’s access codes to get close, and Master Satele launched her diversionary attack the second we landed. They didn’t realize there was a team on the ground until we were finished.”

Theron whistled, low and long. “You did quick work.”

“What?” Lana chuckled. “Are you telling me you didn’t know the specifics?”

“Oh, I know a thousand different stories that started circulating after the attack,” Theron grinned. “Urban legends stuff. Myths, even. But I’d never thought to ask Arro his own version of events before!” He bonked his own head lightly. “Stupid, stupid!”

“I’ll tell you in full sometime later,” Arro promised. 

“Cool. Oh, look! We’ve been cleared to land. We’re about to begin our approach. Strap in; this will be a bumpy landing.”

* * *

They were greeted by a stiff-looking human man with a reedy voice. “Honored guests, it is my pleasure to welcome you to Dromund Kaas,” he intoned, his expression sour.

“Moff Lorman?” Lana asked, looking surprised.

“It’s  _ Minister _ Lorman now,” the man corrected, half testy, half smug. “I am the highest ranking non-Sith in the Empire.”

“Really?” Theron asked, his voice scathing. “I figured your career was over when you ‘lost’ the Ascendant Spear’.” Lana nodded, biting her lip. Arro could Feel how hard she was finding it not to laugh. Theron turned to Arro. “As you can see, Lorman and I have a bit of a history.”

“It’s  _ Minister  _ Lorman now,” Lorman cut in. “And the past is irrelevant. I serve Empress Acina now. She awaits us in the Throne Room.”

He led them through the speeder docked nearby, and pointed out various landmarks for his guests as they approached the Citadel.

“That is the monument to Ergast. Ancient Sith Sorceror, very knowledgeable about Force rituals. That there is the Museum of History… the Office of the Minister of the Interior (that’s me). Oh, and that was a statue of Darth Marr. And that large mausoleum is the Rooks monument, built in honor of Darth Prowle, but with satellite shrines to her family. The Rooks were a very dedicated family of warriors.”

“Anything for Darth Nox?”

“No,” the Minister responded. “But we do have one planned. The Empress wanted to commemorate those who died defending the Empire first. Resources, as I am sure you are aware, are scarce.”

Arro nodded. His announcement a few days ago, about emergency relief, had been met with desperate approval from most corners of the galaxy. Diplomats from the Alliance had hashed out the main details with both Republic and Empire in no time flat. In fact, the first of the shipments had already reached all major worlds across the Galaxy.

He also paid attention to their escort whispering to each other. It seemed the Empire was gearing for war, with everyone pulling double shifts. Additionally, the mood felt mildly resentful. Not of him and the Alliance, but the new Regime. Far as he could tell, the Imperials hated their new status quo as the underdogs.

The Emperor also reemerged to reflect.  _ “Dromund Kaas. I clung to this husk of a world for too long before casting it aside as a failed experiment. But the Sith could still be a useful tool to help you seize the Eternal Throne.” _

Arro snorted. The insidious entity had not ‘cast it aside’, He had been defeated. No doubt Valkorion would say that He had shifted his focus to Zakuul centuries ago—which was mostly true—but he still was using this Empire for his own purposes, such as the plots to murder trillions. He had admitted as much, that one time he had met Valkorion in the flesh.

The Imperial Guard flanking the doors had the same appearance as those who had guarded Acina’s predecessor, but Arro suspected they were not the same outfit. Every last one of those had gone rogue and converged on Yavin IV during the Revan Reborn incident. They had been reduced to raving lunatics by the Will of their Master, and had pointlessly fought to the death.

He wondered if Acina’s Guard had the same deadly skill and discipline as Vitiate’s had. Probably not. Like the Republic, they were scraping the bottom of the manpower barrel. All their talent had been wasted over decades of incessant fighting.

The doors parted, revealing Acina standing before her Throne, brow furrowed in thought. “Welcome, Commander. These are strange times. Did you ever imagine the Sith would negotiate with a Jedi?”

“Well…” Arro grinned slyly, then jerked his head slightly in Lana’s direction. Acina, Theron, and Lana chuckled.

“Point taken.”

“And there was also the truce during the Revanite incident, when Marr and Satele committed to stopping first Revan, then the Emperor. But still… the Empress of the Sith is a different level, I’d admit.”

“Indeed. Now, you are negotiating an official arrangement, hopefully a long-term one.”

“I am glad.”

“Us too. The Sith respect strength, and you have proved yours a thousand times over. Truth be told, you could take my place if you so chose. So many of my Sith already stand behind you.”

Arro laughed politely, as though it were a joke. But he knew it was mostly the truth. If he wanted the Empire, all he had to do was ask. Acina barely had the strength to refuse.

“In the past, arrogance would have blinded us to our weakness. Now we understand that admitting it is the first step in eliminating it.”

Lorman spoke up. “I urge you not to be so critical, Empress. The Sith Empire has always been glorious!”

Acina ignored him. “I would like to continue this conversation in private, on my personal shuttle. Just the two of us, speaking freely.”

She turned and led the way to her balcony, where a shuttle was docked on the landing pad.

Arro could feel Lana’s suspicions as though they were his own.

“I’ll try to watch out. You know what to do if something happens. Keep Lorman company, would you?”

“It’s MINISTER Lorman, MINISTER LORMAN!” the man shrieked. “Why is that so hard to remember?”

“Nothing will happen,” Theron said, clearly not believing himself. “We know you can handle yourself in a fight, and we know that Acina’s sincere.”  _ This time, _ his expression seemed to say. 

“It’s not Acina that concerns me,” Lana whispered in an undertone. “Both here and offworld, there are other forces at play. They always are.” Arro agreed. But there was little to do; Acina had already reached her shuttle. And SCORPIO was, by all intel reports, still not fully recovered after Voss. And the Sith, as Acina had indicated, already respected him. For now.

So why did he have such a bad feeling about this?

* * *

Acina didn’t speak until she had piloted the shuttle well into the wilds. Then she set it on autopilot and turned to speak to her esteemed guest.

“So, Commander. No one here but us. I hope you can answer my question freely. And honestly.”

“Of course.”

“You intend to stop SCORPIO, and end her tyranny. Just like you did with Arcann,” she said. “And my own predecessor. But what comes next? Will you return to fighting the Sith? And what becomes of the Eternal Throne, and the Fleet it commands?”

“I think the war has gone on long enough,” he answered. “I’ve always wanted a lasting end to hostilities. If the Sith are willing to end it, then so will I.”

“The Sith were willing to end it after Zakuul humiliated us,” Acina grunted. “But Saresh wouldn’t leave us be. She insisted on raiding us for resources, so that the Republic could pay its tribute from the takings, thus making us pay double.”

The former Battlemaster of the Jedi order snorted. “Ironic, isn’t it? The Republic has become the aggressor. It was exactly the sort of thing the Jedi are supposed to stand against.”

“But there are no Jedi guiding the Senate.”

“Haven’t been. Ever. The Jedi consider politics filthy. Which I think is a mistake.”

Acina’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

“We criticize among ourselves, but stay away. We don’t do anything about it. Not even so much as publicly condemning anyone unless absolutely necessary. If we are to just accept the leaders and their corruption without question, then why criticize them at all? The Jedi refused to even back candidates, or policies. They had an honorary seat on the Senate, but no one ever sat on it. At best, they watched from an observer’s lounge. I don’t want that, especially after this never-ending war. If I have the power to lead us into a peaceful era, I will.”

“You would rule the Galaxy?”

“Not rule. Lead.”

“Oh, how marvellous!” Acina’s face twisted into a smirk. “I fail to see the difference.”

“Semantics matter, don’t they?” the Jedi shrugged. “They do to a vast majority of us who don’t see the galaxy in binary. In this case, I will lead by example. I will allow the galaxy to hold me accountable for keeping my promises. And I will give an option for every world—Republic, Sith, Zakuulan, or neutral— whether they want my leadership or not.”

Acina frowned. “The alternative being?”

“Unending war, and all the joys it brings. Death tolls. Sieges. Raids. Famine. Disease. People like Saresh in power, or another Arcann, or another Vitiate.”

“And what happens to the current power structure?” She demanded. “What happens to me and my government? Or the Republic?”

“The Alliance will maintain the peace, and ensure certain galactic policies, like movement of troops, and weapons. We will set the policies on rebuilding efforts. But we are not here to topple the powers that be.”

“And what will you take in exchange?”

“It’s true, that we will need some funds and concessions in keeping everything running,” the Master admitted. “But I intend to give back more than we take.”

Acina’s mind raced. This was a lot of information… and very openly given too. She had no clue how to deal with it; she realized she was too used to schemers and liars, masks and doublespeak. “And you are just telling me all of this? I did promise secrecy, but for all you know I could be recording all of this. I could make it all public.”

“Well… this is a show of trust on my part. A calculated risk. In any case, I do intend to declare my intention soon enough.”

Acina nodded slowly. “I think I begin to see your big picture. I am impressed. You truly are different from your peers, Master Jedi.”

The alien man looked amused. “I see this hasn’t gotten out yet. I have another announcement to make; Grand Master Dayl Zoran cast me out of the Order. I am a Jedi no longer.”

She was startled.  _ “WHAT? _ Impossible! After all of your accomplishments… all of your victories, the Barsen'thor can just cast you out? Is he mad? But… but this is perfect. We are always on the lookout for talented Force-wielders to bolster the Sith ranks…”

Arro laughed. “No, no! As it stands, it’s probably for the best that I not be either one or the other. Master Zoran may have forced events, but this is probably the path I would be walking regardless.”

“I see.”

“So the ball is in your court,” he smiled. “Are you willing to aid me? To help me take the throne? To bring a period of healing for the Galaxy?”

“I am,” she pursed her lips. “Truthfully, there is little choice. At this rate, both Republic and Empire will wear out our fangs to stubs gnawing at each others’ armored throats. There will be nothing but ashes if this keeps up. Even we can see that now. You do realize, however, that such an arrangement cannot last? War will break out again. Eventually. Even if it takes generations.”

“But it will be generations of peace. I will consider every decade a major victory. If we are lucky, my work can be carried on by a successor. And their successor after that. But that is for when we get there.”

“Agreed. As Empress, I agree to stand as your ally, and to seriously consider your peace plan when you lay it out.”

“Thank you. I know it’s a lot to ask for.”

“I suppose we’d best return. The sooner we are done here, the sooner we can bring down the usurper droid—” her fingers flew across the console as she spoke, disengaging the autopilot and recharting a course for the citadel. But even as the shuttle’s course changed, explosions rocked the shuttle.

* * *

  
  



	17. The Hunters

**Dromund Kaas**

As they’d agreed on Odessen, Theron and Lana behaved themselves for the first stage of their stay on Dromund Kaas. They didn’t attempt to snoop around for information. Instead, they tried mingling with the Imperials in the Citadel cantina; a uniquely unrewarding experience. The patrons were generally unwelcoming of the Jedi’s wife and the Republic spy. Conversations died up when they entered, and took ages to come back to life. Hostile stares kept getting shot in their general direction, leaving them both feeling a bit uncomfortable. Arro might be respected for his strength and accomplishments, but that didn’t stop these people from considering Theron as a natural enemy, or Lana as a traitor. Never mind either, that the first of the  _ free  _ food shipments organized by the Alliance had arrived, and people were no longer starving to death because of them.

Around them, the people restarted their conversations in murmurs. Some talked about SCORPIO. Some about the Republic, or the Empire, or the war. But mostly they stuck to city gossip. Theron would have struggled to keep up even if he’d wanted to.

“This was a mistake,” Lana muttered. “As expected. Let’s just finish our drinks and  _ leave!” _

“Yeah,” Theron agreed. “You could find more friends in a graveyard.”

There was one good thing to come of their visit, however. They confirmed that they were being watched, and not by Imperial Intelligence.

* * *

“Who do you think it is?” Theron whispered as they made their way to their assigned bunk.

“I don’t know yet,” Lana answered. “But Intelligence won’t use tails, and such obvious ones at that. They’d use droids, or surveillance. What concerns me is that there might be more than the three dozen we’ve picked out.”

“Yeah,” Theron agreed. “Best we not linger here. How’s Arro’s discussion going.”

“Quite well,” Lana said with a slight smile. “I think we have secured her cooperation not only against the Eternal Throne, but beyond as well!”

“That’s great news,” Theron smiled back. “Really, I wish I could believe that my own Republic would be this easy to convince.”

“Drawbacks of having to wait to hear  _ everyone’s _ opinions, I’m sure,” Lana said. “Acina on the other hand, can just make decisions for the Empire unilaterally.”

“On the other hand, if anything happens to her, we have no idea which way her successor would lean.”

“Hmmm. It’s in our best interests to keep Acina alive. I wish we could just leave it to her own people, but...” her words trailed off in a sharp intake of breath.

“Lana?” Theron asked, concerned. “What happened?”

“I can Feel his shock… he’s in danger. I think Acina’s shuttle is going down!”

* * *

The Commander responded in the blink of an eye. Or so it seemed to Acina, who later felt ashamed at how slow she’d been to move. She had grown complacent, decadent. It had been years since she had needed to think so quickly on her feet. She was embarrassed by how the fear paralyzed her. Sith were supposed to thrive on emotion, all emotion!

The Commander, on the other hand, had immediately run for the emergency supplies. He slipped a jetpack onto his shoulders, and a helmet over his head, before tossing another set to Acina. As she fumbled in wearing it over the stupidly ornate regalia of hers, he used the Force to break open the overhead emergency hatch and leapt on top of the shuttle. Acina followed in a few moments, almost deafened by the scream of the rain, wind, and the burning engines.

Thankfully, the helmets had short range communicators that saved them the trouble of shouting to be heard.

“Have you ever used these before?” The Commander asked her.

“Never during an actual emergency,” she replied nervously. “And not in such terrible conditions!”

As if to punctuate her point, a spear of lightning shot almost skewered them right there. Acina felt it about to hit, but would have been helpless without the Jedi… the  _ ex- _ Jedi. At the last second, he…  _ somehow… _ used the Force to slap away the lightning, though the act visibly shook him.

“I’d rather not do that again,” his voice sounded suddenly exhausted through the headset. “Keep it together Your Highness. We can panic once we have the luxury. Take off. I’ll be here to help if anything goes wrong. Don’t hesitate to ask for help. Now take off!” He repeated, and a startled Acina obeyed.

The Force told her that he was right behind her. She felt a bit less terrified as the forest canopy raced up toward her, but only a little. Luckily, there were no further mishaps for a while. Neither equipment failure, nor another lightning strike. They landed safely, watching the shuttle go down a kilometer or so ahead. 

“That was too close,” she gasped, as her rubbery knees gave out. She sank into the ground, trying to get her limbs back under her control.

“Could it have been an accident?” he asked. “It didn’t feel like the engines were hit by lightning.”

“The shuttle’s shields could easily have taken a dozen or more lightning strikes,” she said. “But they were the second system to fail. And my shuttle was inspected just this morning, and was found to be in good working order. Also, someone is jamming our communications.”

“So it was sabotage,” he nodded. His voice sounded resigned. And still held some measure of exhaustion.

“How are you feeling, Commander?” she asked. If someone was out to get her, she wouldn’t be able to get out of this without him! Curse her foolish complacency! Peace is, most  _ definitely _ , a lie! If she survived this, she was going to train hard and regain her edge. “Your trick with the Lightning strike. I’ve never seen anything like it! At least, not against something that powerful!”

“I trained myself to be able to go toe-to-toe with the Emperor himself,” he answered. “That was the result. One of them. But deflecting it while hurtling through the air at that speed, trying not to get blasted off my feet in a wild spiral in the process… that took the wind out of my sails. I’ll be alright though. And you?”

“Not too bad,” she replied. “I’ll feel better once I can start moving again. We should make for the shuttle”

His helmeted head turned toward her. “That might not be a good idea.”

“There is a beacon on the shuttle.  _ It’s _ signal should be able to break through any interference. We should find it to make a rescue attempt easier. Most of my people  _ will _ look for me,” she added. She suspected he was thinking about the Imperial tradition of opportune backstabbing.

He shook his head. “Anyone wanting to assassinate us would probably track down the wreckage, if only to make sure they got us.”

“We’re over a hundred kilometers from the citadel now,” Acina snapped. “What do you suggest? Walking back? These jetpacks won’t last the whole way, and it’s a risk enough using them in a storm this bad!”

“Fine. We get the shuttle in sight. But we don’t approach, only watch. That way we don’t do the assassins’ jobs for them. Assuming it really is assassins, which we’d be smart to do.”

“Very well,” she admitted that was a good enough idea. 

As they began loping in the direction of the shuttle—it’s smoke visible from where they stood—he spoke again. “This might actually be a great idea. We’ll be able to see who’s after us, and maybe even find out who sent them.”

* * *

Lana and Theron didn’t have to wait long. With little else to do, they’d agreed to wait in their assigned quarters until news came, but Lorman was waiting for them outside. 

“Forgive the intrusion, but I come bearing  _ tragic _ news,” he droned. “The Empress’ shuttle has crashed.”

Both of them pretended to be surprised. “Crashed?” Theron asked. “Where?”

“Somewhere in the jungle,” he answered. “And her emergency beacon isn’t transmitting.”

“That’s impossible,” Lana said, crossing her arms. 

“I’m afraid there’s only one logical conclusion,” the reedy man said, the sympathy in his voice an obvious act. “The shuttle has disintegrated. Which means that the Empress and the Commander are both dead. My condolences, my lady,” he added, bowing somberly in Lana’s direction.

Theron looked at her, and though her face bore the expression of shock, he could tell she wasn’t too perturbed. Yet. She could Sense Arro after all, and would know if anything had happened to him.

“Search attempts are in progress right now,” Lorman said. “I will let you know the second I hear anything.”

“If anything happens to Acina, what will the Dark Council do?” Lana asked. “Does she have a designated successor?”

The Minister looked nonplussed, as though he’d never considered that. “Er… that is to say, I’ve not been privy to such details… If you’ll excuse me…” he all but bolted away.

They entered their room, each lost in thought about how to proceed, but certain that Lorman had something to do with the ‘accident’.

* * *

There were over a hundred heavily armed hostiles waiting at the crash site. They paced restlessly in the rain, cursing and casting dirty looks at the dense foliage as their droids tried to scan for life forms. That last was a most futile exercise given the density of life in this jungle.

Arro and Empress Acina observed from their hiding place behind some bushes. Arro felt grateful for the rain, which the Empress had stated was heavy even by Dromund Kaas’ standards. It meant that most of the creatures of the jungle, big or small, would have taken shelter. Less chances of running into predators, but it was the swarms of flies and mosquitoes and similar bugs that Arro was really grateful not to have to face. Having to swat those made stealth... difficult.

In addition, the storm masked their movement from their hunters. Arro and the Empress could freely move from one hiding place to the next without having to worry as much about sounds.

In the back of his mind, he Felt Lana closely monitoring him, ready to act at a moment’s notice. She and Theron seemed to have started something, and though specifics were harder to communicate, Arro surmised that Lana had accessed her resources in Intelligence. She and Theron were on the lookout for their assassins from their own end.

Under cover of the dark and rain, Arro got close enough to hear the hostiles talking.

“Still nothing,” one woman said. Nautolan, with purple skin. She was one of the few to be at ease in the rain. No surprise there. “Are you sure they’ll be coming?”

“Positive,” a large Devaronian man growled. “There’s few places they can go now. They’re hardly going to  _ walk _ the hundred and twenty two kilometers to the closest outpost.”

“Ralor’s got teams combing the jungle,” another said in a heavy drawl. A human male, light brown skin, wet dark hair plastered to his face. “Comm silence until we confirm a sighting. We don’t want to alert Imperial Intelligence until the hunt is  _ really _ on.”

“Never seen so many of us in one place,” another human, a tall and pale woman with green hair. “I had no idea we even had so many people in the organization!”

“Yeah, the Geno all hundred teams committed to this mission,” the Nautolan woman said. “Eighteen hundred of us. That’s almost the entirety of our field teams. Some might call it overkill, but our target is  _ him _ after all.”

“The commander,” green-hair breathed. “Slayer of tyrants! A true hunter, an artist… the greatest practitioner of our craft! And of course the best predators make the best hunts. I lived my entire life for something like this! I could kiss Saresh’s slimy mouth!”

“If anything, a part of me is worried we don’t have enough people,” plastered-hair shivered. “Or at least, not enough in the same place. A hundred and eighty of us, including droids? Do we stand a chance?”

“We’ve got this!” green-hair declared. “We are  _ Genoharadan! _ There ain’t nobody who can stand up to us!”

_ So, _ Arro thought to himself. He now knew who they were, how many were after him, who had hired them, and best of all, that they were keeping silent until they had a confirmed visual of him. The Genoharadan seemed to have an arrogance to match their reputation for giving away so much information in just a short time! Theron would cry if he found out he could get this much info so quickly!

He hit a switch on his wristband, jamming their signals as they had jammed his, then emerged from his hiding spot. “I can’t decide which is stranger,” he called pleasantly. “That the Genoharadan are real, or that they’re after us!” The familiar sound of the lightsaber’s snap-hiss during its activation was followed by a loud sizzle in the rain. 

With startled cries, the assassins all leveled their blasters at him. And opened fire.

_ Really? Blaster fire? _ He felt a little insulted. They may as well have resorted to half-hearted playground taunts!

* * *

Sadia was horrified. Apex Task Force went down faster than a house of cards. All their training, all their experience, all their bravado, and they had still reacted like a creche of toddlers! They’d wildly opened fire with their blasters, and that blue blade unerringly deflected every last bolt that came his way as he took down his hunters.

Blustering Zuri was the first to go down, green hair covering her face like a wet shroud. She’d been so panicked that her shots weren’t even close. Dozens of others fell to their own ricocheting bolts, while others were cut down where they stood. They only remembered to switch to grappling hooks and electro-nets after much more than half the force had already been annihilated, but the Jedi cut, slashed, and evaded them. Flamethrowers were no use in such heavy rain, and rockets imploded mid flight.

With heads dropping fast, eighteen attempted to bolt using their jetpacks. They didn’t survive the takeoff; their target was upon them in a flash. And just like that, everyone but her was dead. She closed her eyes as he approached, but felt the blade stop at her neck.

“Are you guys really Genoharadan?” he asked dubiously. “That was pathetic! I’ve had a better showing from training droids!”

“Please, don’t kill me!” she begged. She felt humiliated.

“How many targets have you killed, assassin?” he asked.

Fear compelled her to speak the truth. “Eighty-two.”

“And how many of them begged for mercy? How many did you show it to? Why is it you deserve the mercy that you denied others?”

She couldn’t bring herself to respond for a while. “You’re a Jedi,” she said desperately. “You don’t kill helpless targets…”

“Helpless is a matter of perspective. From a certain point of view, your comrades were all helpless, weren’t they?”

It was true. She opened her eyes. “So why haven’t you killed me?”

“You have information. It could save your life.”

“I’ll tell you  _ everything!” _

“Who is Ralor?”

“He is the commander of this joint operation. Big Rattataki, over three hundred successful missions.”

“How are your teams conducting the search?”

“Eighty teams converged on the crash site. I have never seen so many of us in one place… we split up from here, in task groups of five teams.”

“I haven’t seen a single one before yours. But then, I guess the storm made it difficult. Where are your ships?”

“Ship, singular. Our medium transport, which brought our supplies and forty teams. It’s at the camp, nine klicks south. They set up near a big tomb of some sort. The rest of us came aboard chartered shuttles over the past couple of weeks.”

“These same twenty teams guard the camp, I suppose?”

“Eighteen of them, yes,” she confirmed. “Two of them are in the Citadel, watching your associates.”

“Who put you up to this?”

“Saresh did,” she said. She had never been this honest in her entire life! “She wanted to take out the Sith Empress and the Alliance Commander in one fell swoop so she could assume command.”

“Does that mean she has something planned for the Dark Council? I don’t see them just allowing her to waltz in.”

“I—I don’t know! I don’t think she planned for them.”

He laughed. “How typical of Saresh! And to think she considers herself a master strategist. Still, this suggests you had an accomplice, someone Saresh duped into thinking they can be co-ruler.”

“It was Lorman.”

He shook his head. “What is your protocol for if you don’t find me? Are you meant to return to the camp after some time has passed?”

“No. We don’t leave our targets alive, ever. That’s never even considered.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

Arro Picked up the Nautolan and Slammed her into the shuttle, knocking her unconscious. 

“That was very informative,” the Empress said. He turned and found her stooped next to her shuttle, picking through the wreckage. “I wish I had been as successful. The Beacon is destroyed, and there’s little aboard that’s still salvageable. We’re on our own.”

“I never liked waiting for others to rescue me anyway.”

“A sound philosophy, one the Sith Code embraces.”

“Do you know this tomb that the Genoharadan mentioned?”

“Yes, in fact I do,” she said slowly. “It’s the tomb of Arad Kurghan. Also interred there are the family and friends who predeceased him--complete with statues--as well as many of his enemies."

"His  _ enemies? _ Ah, I see… his conquests."

"Very good, Commander. It is a shrine to his power and influence. To his accomplishments. A museum in its heyday, in fact. He's one of the few great Sith to die of natural causes. But that tomb is just a decrepit old ruin now, crumbling and overgrown. Infested with vermin."

"No wonder they chose it for their base then."

"What's our course of action, Commander?"

He thought for a moment. "We make for the tomb, but take out as many hunt teams we can find along the way. The Genoharadan are going to regret this."

* * *

  
  



	18. Saresh

* * *

**The Citadel, Dromund Kaas**

Theron was typing away furiously on his console. “Looks like the storm’s not letting up anytime soon,” he grumbled. 

“At least I can confirm that Arro is alright,” Lana sighed. “Seems to be on a mission to wipe them out, actually. He  _ really _ didn’t like these assassins’ initiative.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t take all week,” Theron said. “It’s already been four hours.”

He was interrupted by his comm. He was… surprised by who was on the other end. 

_ “Shan,” _ Saresh said. She still wore clothes of the same elaborate cut as when she had been Chancellor, and wore the ceremonial broach meant just for that seat.  _ “I’ve just heard the news. Let me express my sincere condolences.” _

“SIS reporting must have gone downhill since I left,” he responded. “Arro’s  _ missing, _ not  _ dead.” _

_ “Don’t let hope blind you,” _ she rebuked.  _ “You are leaderless. As are the Sith.  _ Someone _ must step in to fill the void. I may not be Chancellor any more, but a  _ True  _ leader doesn’t need titles. I want what he wanted: to destroy SCORPIO. Join me, and we can finish what he started.” _

“Pass!” Theron snarled. “I’ve had more than my fill of working with  _ you!” _

An ugly look crossed her face but she smoothed it out with difficulty. How the heck had she managed to gain so much power?  _ “You’re still grieving. Eventually, you’ll realize that I am right.” _

The call disconnected. 

Lana growled. “Guess patience is a ‘No’, then. I’ve told Arro to hurry it up. We have to leave soon, he can meet up with us back on Odessen.”

“What?” Theron was surprised. “You’re the one who tore the galaxy apart looking for him the last time he vanished, this time you can just leave him to his devices?”

“He’s fine, I can Sense it. If that changes, I’ll literally be the first to know. These assassins are fighting him on his own terms right now. They don’t stand a chance. It’s the galaxy that needs a babysitter.”

“Right,” Theron agreed. But he could tell she  _ really _ didn’t like having to leave him. Good thing love didn’t blind her to the larger concerns. They rushed for the door. They could make it to the shuttle pad in less than half an hour.

Unfortunately, there was one thing they  _ had _ forgotten since Saresh’s call.

Just when they reached the elevator to the taxi pad, their tails from before showed up. “Minister Lorman warned us you might try to escape,” their leader said.

* * *

The assassins guarding the camp were just as easily thrown off their game as the patrols in the woods. It took no time flat for him to mow them down, Acina standing by to finish off any who escaped him.

Arro was impressed by his first glance at the tomb. Large and well designed, it cut quite a picture. Valkorion appeared beside him, and the rain paused in its fall. “The looted tomb of another Sith Lord,” he sneered. “I once thought these temples held the secrets of immortality. I was wrong.”

“Course you were. If they knew, they wouldn’t have died in the first place.”

Valkorion threw back his head and laughed. “I really must grant you that one! Well said…”

“Still, I’m sure there were other secrets you found that you could use.”

“Obviously. A quest for knowledge is never truly fruitless.”

The pause in time ended and Acina waved him over. “Commander, come see this!”

He jogged over to her, and she held up a datapad for him to see. 

It was Saresh.  _ “It’s not enough to simply crash the shuttle,”  _ she said.  _ “I need to see the bodies. Especially Arro’s. After how many times reports of his death were exaggerated, I need his bloody  _ head on a pike _ to convince everyone he’s gone for good. No bodies, no bonus.” _

“Well, now we have proof. There is a larger discussion here, all neatly recorded for us.” She handed the datapad to him. “Use it in good health.”

“Thanks,” he said, pocketing it.

“Come on,” she said. “Only a few more guards, then we can take their ship and return to the Citadel. And before you ask: yes, you’ve killed one thousand, seven hundred and forty five. And knocked out that Nautolan from the first force. I was careful, and kept count. Congratulations on nearly wiping out all of the Genoharadan field teams single handedly. In just one evening too.”

“They’re not that great,” Arro shrugged. He felt a bit disturbed by how little his kill count moved him, but he couldn’t linger on that for long. A frown; a Message from Lana. _ Hurry back. Meet you at home. _

It had to be serious if Lana was considering leaving before he’d even returned. Saresh must have begun her play. “Word from Lana. We need to move.”

The Empress’s eyebrows rose a fraction but she didn’t comment. They crept along in the shadows, inching closer to the tomb. The ship was parked right in front of it, and a few command tents had been set up, though it seemed that these had been blown off their supports in the storm.

The last team stood in the shadow of their ship, all conferring with a small, fidgety man who seemed rather out of place. “It’s so rude of you to make me come out in the storm like this,” he complained. “I’m your employer’s partner, which makes me your superior!”

“Put a sock in it, Lorman,” a tall Rattataki grunted.

“It’s  _ Minister _ Lorman!”

“Talk to my arse,” the big hunter retorted. “It might care more.”

“Hello, Lorman,” Acina said venomously. “Fancy meeting you here. Are you going to stick to form and insist that you came here looking for me?”

Lorman jumped and screamed. 

“And about your ‘partnership’,” Arro said. “Do you really think the Dark Council will roll over and let  _ you _ rule? Or Saresh? This reeks of her short-sighted thinking. Give it up if you want to live.”

“It’s not his call,” the lead assassin—Arro had forgotten his name. Valor?—stepped forward. “The Genoharadan always gets the job done! Kill em!” 

Even as he gave the order, Arro and Acina were already in motion. Acina had held back until now, but she was no slouch in a fight. As Arro killed the first two, she blasted a web of lightning at the three closest to her, leaving them paralysed where they stood for a crucial few seconds as she casually closed the gap. Her saberstaff beheaded all three in one swipe.

Arro, meanwhile, used only his saber and his speed. As he always did. Not a single bolt made it past his defenses; most of the bolts were deflected right back where they came from. Men and women went down screaming, although only two of these died outright from the ricochets. The rest died to his blade.

In seconds, the last team of eighteen were down to seven, then two. The last one, the leader, howled in fury and charged at Arro with an electrostaff in his hand. He wasn’t a half-bad duelist actually. He may even have been good enough to kill a newly Knighted Jedi if he had surprise on his side.

Arro parried his attacks easily, then took off both his hands at the elbow. He then Threw the man against the landing strut of the ship, knocking him out cold. “This one can come with me,” he said, and Acina indicated her approval. “What about Lorman?” she asked. 

“M-m-m-Minister Lorman,” the man stammered. He looked frightened. “And don’t come any closer! I have your wife hostage!”

He activated his comm. “Show me the prisoner,” he told the man on the other end.

By way of response, the man’s head fell off his shoulders, and Lana appeared behind him, lightsaber in hand.

_ “Oh, hello,  _ Lorman _ ,” _ she said, with a wide sneer.

_ “Is this who you sent to capture us?” _ Theron asked, showing up beside her. _ “I’m a little insulted.” _

_ “I take it you’re already done on your side?”  _ Lana asked. _ “Good. We need to leave as quickly as possible. Saresh contacted us already. She wants the Alliance. We may see her on Odessen when we return.” _

“We should be back within the hour. With a prisoner.”

_ “Oh, goody. Get back here quickly, or you’ll need to take the bus home.” _

“Yes, ma’am,” he saluted, and the line disconnected.

“Again. What do you wish to do with Lorman?” 

“He’s your subject,” Arro said. “You must deal with him as you see fit. My suggestion; keep him alive. Interrogate him, to see how deep his plot went. Then lock him away.” He felt uneasy allowing a Sith to be as vengeful as she wished, but he didn’t want to start ordering her around. Yet. He would be doing plenty of that in the years to come. Besides, he was hardly in a position to moralize at the moment.

“You hear that, Lorman?” she asked him, her tone bored. “You are my prisoner. I won’t bother asking you to divest yourself of all your weapons, because I know you’re too weak to use any.”

“Y-y-y-yes, my Empress.”

“So you will be moving against Saresh, I suppose?” she asked Arro. “I don’t suppose you’ll let her get away with this. Not with the evidence we gathered.”

“She will regret it. I promise you that.”

“I do wonder though,” she commented. “Once you move against her, how will you convince the Republic to get behind your plans?”

“That’s a good question,” Arro admitted. “I have no idea.”

He would deal with Saresh, especially if she was dumb enough to do what he expected her to. But there would be a fallout. Her supporters back in the Republic would raise a huge cry about how  _ he _ was the one at fault. He, who had married a Sith, allied with the Empire, and attacked the (illegal) leader of the Republic. They would try to discredit his evidence, smear his good name, and even though they  _ shouldn’t  _ succeed in the long run, the chances were good that enough people would wonder if he really was such a noble hero. If he wasn’t just another power hungry warlord. Their doubt would make it harder for him to take the next step once SCORPIO lay defeated.

_ Baby steps, Arro, _ he told himself firmly.  _ Deal with one crisis at a time. First we need to stop her from stealing the Alliance from us. _

* * *

**Odessen**

They landed directly in the Military Enclave’s hangar. For that was where Saresh had chosen to address the Alliance, Aygo had told them. Those few who were still here. Some others were in attendance via holo, including Vette and Jorgan. But some, like Torian, Scourge, Kira, Sana-Rae, and Hylo were among the hundred or so personnel here in the flesh.

They entered the chamber just as she began her speech. “Members of the Alliance,” she said in her best stage voice, the one that had gained her much sympathy and support. “As many of you have already heard, your Commander is dead. There are dark times ahead. But fear not! I have come to offer you a beacon!”

Just as she said those last words, Arro, Theron, and Lana made their way to the front of the crowd. Theron led the drugged Genoharadan leader, who was cuffed.

The look on Saresh’s face was priceless. It was the look of someone who had realized that they had well and truly fucked up. She turned to run, but Lana raised her into the air, where she struggled to escape but couldn’t. She turned to glare at Arro.

“I assume you know everything then,” she growled.

“I better than  _ know,  _ Saresh,” he replied, and played the recorded message. Some of the audience gasped in surprise. Vette groaned and asked  _ “How have you survived for this long?” _ and chuckles spread out among them..

“Well what do you expect?” she asked. “You are weak and foolish! The Alliance needs a  _ real  _ leader like me! Only I can defeat all threats to the Republic!”

This time the audience all but fell over laughing. “You really believe that?” Theron asked incredulously. “The only leader who could be worse than you is  _ Lorman!” _

Her face twisted in rage. “How dare you? All that I have ever done—”

“—Has only ever fueled your career more than it has the war,” Arro interrupted her. “Or are you going to pretend that the Republic is a dictatorship now?”

“Someone needs to make the hard decisions!” she insisted. “It’s the only way to destroy our enemies! I did what I had to: I took the opportunity I saw. I won’t apologize for it.”

“We are well beyond apologies, ex-Chancellor,” Lana said scathingly. 

“What shall we do with her?”

“Execution, I expect,” Saresh responded smugly. “It’s what I would do. It is what Acina would do. SCORPIO.”

Arro sighed. “I don’t have that luxury,” he said, and Saresh swelled up smugly. “The Genoharadan have declared themselves my enemy, even though I currently am leading the fight against the Eternal Throne. They are an urgent threat, and I need to deal with them before they vanish. And  _ you _ are one of my few links to them.”

Her smugness evaporated in an instant. “You want me to betray the Genoharadan?” she asked wildly. “Are you insane?”

“No, I am the one who killed every last one of their field teams in the course of half a day,” Arro replied. “And now I have to finish them. I have no choice in this. Will you cooperate?”

“Please,” she whimpered. “They’ll kill me!”

“And you suddenly care about concepts like life and death, do you? You who is willing to kill half the Republic if it means meeting your personal agenda? Will. You. Cooperate?”

“No…” she said, covering her face. “No!”

“Then  _ you _ leave me with no choice either. I don’t have the luxury of time.”

This whole time, he had been closely monitoring the state of her mind. In a snap it had gone from bluster to panic. It was so brittle now, so brittle that he could See the Cracks with his Sight. They were so fragile, so numerous, so interconnected, that it would only take a single push from someone who knew how…

Like Arro did. As he had with that Imperial Guard Captain on Yavin years ago, he splintered her mind, leaving it ready to answer any and all questions without hesitation. “Get everything you need out of her,” he ordered Lana, who nodded grimly and led a quaking Saresh out. 

“Well there you have it,” Arro informed those gathered. “We’re going to have to hunt down the Genoharadan before they get away. Or they may never leave us in peace.”

“If you really have decimated their entire roster, it should be a piece of cake,” Torian answered. “Is it okay if I join that hunt? I have an old score to settle with them.” 

“Count me in,” Kira said. 

“Mandalore should support us,” Torian added. “There’s hundreds of us who would love the honor, especially after fighting droids for so long!”

“Alright,” Arro nodded. “In addition: Rusk and the Dead Men’s Legion. Qyzen and his hunters. And Skadge and Black Sun.”

Rusk and Qyzen stepped forward eagerly, and the houk criminal bellowed “Hooo yeah! Gotta like this… this will improve my reputation in the underworld!”

“The rest of us get back to stopping SCORPIO,” Arro said. “That’s all for now folks, I think we can return to whatever we were supposed to be doing.”

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the poor quality of this chapter. My mental health has been suffering lately, and it has affected my ability to write. As things stand, I fear that my writing ability is burning out, just as my drawing did.  
> I will be posting key chapters of Eternal War as a separate work, but dearly hope that I can return to writing the full story properly someday. A huge thank you to everyone who has read my work so far.


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